My mother, Patricia, laughed shortly. “Help you? Honey, you’re the only one without a real job.”
Madison smirked. “Mom, don’t be mean.”
But she did not get up.
Something inside me became completely still.
I dried my hands, put down the dish towel, and smiled.
“You’re right,” I said. “I should stop pretending I’m useful.”
Mom frowned. “Don’t start being dramatic. Guests arrive in three hours. oat.
“Emily,” Dad said sharply. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
Madison finally looked up. “Are you serious? My party is tonight.”
I opened the front door. “Then I hope you all know how to cook.”
Mom followed me onto the porch, her face flushed red. “If you leave now, don’t bother coming back.”
I looked at her for a long second. “That was the first generous thing you’ve said all weekend.”
Then I left.
In my car, I sat for five minutes, gripping the steering wheel. I did not cry. I did not scream. I made one phone call.
One hour later, my phone rang. Madison.
When I answered, she was sobbing.
“Emily,” she choked. “Who did you call? Mom just saw him and—oh my god, she’s—”The call filled with shouting.
Then it cut off.
