Dinner was roast chicken with lemon and rosemary, green beans, mashed potatoes, warm bread, and a salad Melanie did not touch. Ellie chattered about making a paper caterpillar at school. Jason seemed relaxed, newly expansive, like a king among subjects. He poured wine for himself and Melanie, then looked at me.
“You want some?”
“No, thank you.”
“Still doing early shift tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Hospitals. I don’t know how you do it.”
I smiled. “Most people don’t.”
She missed that too.
For a while, dinner looked ordinary.
That is one of the cruelest things about family conflict. It rarely begins with thunder. It begins with bread being passed, a child asking for more potatoes, someone laughing too loudly. The room seems normal until one sentence opens the floor.
Melanie lifted her wine glass and smirked at me.
“About time he stopped,” she said.
I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Stopped what?”
She tilted her head toward Jason like they shared a private joke. “Stopped funding you.”
Jason did not correct her.
He did not look surprised.