Chapter 22 - Daniel’s mother asks for dinner
Margaret requested something that made me laugh from sheer disbelief.
Dinner.
At our house.
“No.”
Daniel looked relieved.
Then Margaret clarified through therapist:
Not at our house.
Restaurant.
Public.
One hour.
Rebecca too.
No demand.
I considered.
Then remembered the dining table.
Roast chicken.
My body on sofa.
“No.”
Still.
Another month passed.
Oliver began crawling backward.
Only backward.
Daniel called it:
“Strategic retreat.”
Then Margaret asked again?
No.
She waited.
I chose.
That distinction mattered.
I told Daniel:
“Let’s do lunch.”
Not dinner.
Not chicken.
Not our house.
A café.
Forty-five minutes.
Margaret accepted.
At lunch she asked:
“How is work?”
“Fine.”
No class comment.
Then:
“Do you still use the postpartum service?”
“No. Finished months ago.”
She nodded.
No judgment.
Then she said:
“I found one of the photographs I took.”
My stomach tightened.
“I deleted the copies after my lawyer confirmed preservation was complete. There’s one printed photo in my desk.”
“What photo?”
“You asleep on the sofa.”
I went cold.
“Why tell me?”
“I want permission to destroy it.”
I stared.
“You don’t need my permission.”
“I know. I wanted you to know I’m not keeping it.”
“Destroy it.”
“I will.”
No evidence destruction issue because litigation-relevant copy already preserved by counsel and cases closed. Good.
Then Oliver threw a spoon.
It landed under table.
Margaret looked.
Everyone looked.
She did nothing.
Daniel picked it up.
I almost laughed.
A spoon had become a test.
Then lunch ended.
No invitation home.
No hug.
Margaret kissed two fingers and waved at Oliver from distance.
He smiled.
Maybe at ceiling light.
Still.
Then Daniel said in car:
“I think she wanted us to ask her over.”
“I know.”
“We didn’t.”
“I know.”
May you like
He smiled.
Boundaries without drama.
