I walked out the front door without another word. My bags were already packed upstairs, but I wasn’t going back in there to grab them while she was circling like a vulture. I’d pick them up later. Right then, I needed to breathe before I said something that would escalate into a full-on war in front of the extended family.
The cold Albany air slapped me in the face as I stepped onto the porch. It felt better than sitting inside that suffocating house where my father’s memory was being carved up into assets and insults. I stood there for a long minute listening to the muffled voices inside. Megan’s laughter carried through the walls.
I thought about my father. He had served too years before I was born. He knew what it meant to stand by your people, to never leave anyone behind. And yet somehow here I was, left behind by my own family, treated like the unwanted baggage no one wanted to claim.
When my mom finally came to the doorway, she didn’t look at me. She just wrapped her sweater tighter around herself and said, “Megan didn’t mean it. She’s under a lot of stress.”
I almost laughed.