Relief.
I looked over my shoulder.
Melissa stood beside the abandoned carts, furious.
Grant looked humiliated.
People were pretending not to stare.
I nodded once.
“All right.”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“You said not to come back.”
I pushed open the sliding doors.
“So I won’t.”
Then I walked outside.
I had no car.
Grant had convinced me to sell mine two years earlier because, according to him, “There’s no point maintaining another vehicle when we can drive you anywhere.”
So I walked across the parking lot to the bus stop.
I sat beneath a plastic shelter while my phone began vibrating.
Melissa.
I ignored it.
Grant.
Ignored.
Melissa again.
Then text messages.
COME BACK.
THIS IS CHILDISH.
YOU LEFT US WITH $1,000 OF FOOD AT THE REGISTER.
GRANT’S PARTNERS WILL BE HERE AT 7.
ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
I boarded the bus.
Halfway downtown, I finally answered Melissa’s fourteenth call.
“Where are you?”
Her voice was so loud that I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“On a bus.”
“A bus to where?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You have completely destroyed tonight.”
“No, Melissa. I declined to purchase your groceries.”
“We had to leave everything there!”
“Then perhaps you should have brought your own wallet.”
Silence.
Then:
“What is wrong with you?”
I watched storefronts blur past the window.
“I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
I almost laughed.
How could she ask?
“Tired of being useful only when I’m cooking, cleaning, babysitting, or paying.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“No.”
I looked at my reflection in the glass.
For the first time in years, the woman staring back at me looked familiar.
“I think I’m finally being accurate.”
She inhaled sharply.
“Where exactly are you planning to sleep?”
“I’ll find somewhere.”
“Well, understand something. If you don’t come back tonight and apologize, Grant is changing the locks.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell him to save himself the trouble.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not coming home.”
Her voice dropped.
“Mom.”
“I mean it.”
Then Grant grabbed the phone.
I could hear it happen.
“Evelyn, this has gotten out of hand.”
His voice was suddenly calm.
Professional.
The voice he used when he wanted to sound reasonable while everyone else looked unstable.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.”
“No.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m clear.”
“You have nowhere to go.”
That sentence should have frightened me.
Instead, it made me angry.
“You mean because I sold my home for your benefit?”
“You sold your home because living alone was unsafe.”
“I gave you two hundred sixty-eight thousand dollars.”
