“What? You don’t like the gift? Oh, come on, she made the effort! You should appreciate that. If it were that unlucky girl Andrea, do you think she’d even remember to give you anything?”
“Enough!” my mother shouted angrily.
"Andrea is your own flesh and blood. How can you speak about her like that?"
Taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, my father reached out to touch her forehead. He was so confused by her outburst, but my mother swatted his hand away.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you mad at me over Isabella’s gift?”
“Shut up! All you ever talk about is Isabella. Isabella that, Isabella this. Let me tell you something, this gift that you’re so quick to dismiss was from Andrea, not Isabella.”
My father’s body stiffened as if he had just seen a ghost.
After hearing what had really happened, he scoffed and said dismissively. “A bunch of flowers and a cheap knee massager? Of course, only Andrea would give you something like that. Just wait, when Isabella gets back, she’ll bring you something much better.”
He laughed mockingly. “That unlucky girl, working in the funeral business and never even giving us any money. Raising her was worse than raising a dog. Good riddance, I say.”