Chapter 6
Diane called me cruel.
I accepted the word without agreeing.
She said family dinners were tradition.
Fine.
She could buy them.
She said relatives depended on Sunday meals.
Then those relatives could contribute.
She said I was dividing the family.
There it was.
Whenever someone stops tolerating harm, the person benefiting often calls the boundary division.
I left.
Emily called that night.
“Mom’s telling everyone you cut her off.”
“Did I?”
“Not financially.”
“Then correct her.”
Emily went silent.
Good.
This was her work now.
Not mine.
The next family dinner was smaller.
Six people came instead of twenty.
Nobody laughed.
Apparently cruelty is funnier when somebody else pays for the chicken.
Emily later told me Diane barely ate.
Not because she lacked food.
Because the table felt different.
No Daniel.
No Evan.
No Claire.
No audience for authority.
May you like
That mattered.
Control often needs witnesses more than victims.
