Three weeks after my birthday, Brian entered a gambling recovery program.
I did not pay for it.
That mattered.
Karen helped him find a state-supported option. Rachel drove him to his first meeting. I wished him well from a distance.
Love from a distance is still love.
It is simply love with a locked door.
One month after my birthday, I hosted dinner again.
This time, I did not cook for twenty people who forgot me upstairs.
I cooked for four.
Rachel.
Karen.
Lily.
And myself.
Roast chicken, potatoes, rice, salad.
And a tres leches cake from Helen’s favorite bakery.
Before we ate, Lily set one extra place at the table.
I looked at it.
She said, “For Grandma.”
My throat tightened.
“That was her chair.”
“I know.”
We sat down.
No one took my seat.
No one laughed at me.
No one recorded anything.
Halfway through dinner, the doorbell rang.
