The hallway felt smaller than I remembered.
I reached for Eli's coat.
He was already wearing it.
His hands were inside the sleeves, and he was looking toward the front door.
Behind us, I could hear chairs moving.
Someone whispered something.
Then my father called my name again.
"Jenna."
I stopped.
I didn't turn around.
"What?"
"You're not seriously leaving over this."
I closed my eyes.
Over this.
As if five years of insults could be reduced to one uncomfortable dinner.
As if my son hadn't been sitting beside me.
As if the words hadn't been spoken in front of seventeen relatives.
I finally turned.
"Yes, Dad. I am."
He looked toward the dining room.
"Don't ruin Thanksgiving."
I stared at him.
"I didn't."
Then I opened the front door.
The November air was cold.
Eli stepped outside first.
I followed and closed the door behind us.
Neither of us spoke while walking to the car.
I unlocked it.
He climbed into his seat and pulled the belt across his chest.
I started the engine.
My hands were shaking.
I kept them on the steering wheel until I could drive safely.
We passed the first two houses without speaking.
Then Eli asked a question.
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Am I really not part of the family?"
I felt my throat tighten.
I looked at the road.
"No."
He waited.
I realized he needed more than that answer.
"You're part of this family. You're my son. You're Grandma's grandson. You're Lucy's cousin. Nothing your aunt says can change that."
He looked out the window.
"But she said I'm not."
"I know."
"Everybody heard her."
I swallowed.
"Yes."
He was quiet for a while.
Then he asked whether Lucy thought the same thing.
That question hurt differently.
"No, honey. Lucy loves you."
"Then why doesn't her mom?"
I didn't have an answer that a child should have to hear.
I reached over and touched his knee.
"Her behavior is not your fault."
He nodded.
But he didn't smile.
When we got home, he went straight to his bedroom.
I took the casserole dish out of the car.
It was still wrapped in the folded towel.
I placed it on the kitchen counter.
I hadn't even noticed that we had left without serving it.
The marshmallows on top had melted slightly during the drive.
I stood there looking at it.
Something so ordinary.
Something I had prepared because I wanted to contribute to a family meal.
I put the dish in the refrigerator.
Then I went to Eli's room.
He was sitting on his bed with his shoes still on.
"Can I sit with you?"
He nodded.
I sat beside him.
He leaned against my arm.
I wanted to tell him everything would be fine.
But I didn't know that.
I wanted to tell him Danielle would apologize.
But I couldn't promise that either.
So I told him the one thing I knew was true.
"You never have to earn your place in my life."
He looked at me.
"Okay."
I kissed his forehead.
Then I helped him take off his shoes.
That evening, my phone began ringing.
Mom first.
I let it ring.
Then Dad.
I let that one go too.
Danielle didn't call.
I wasn't surprised.
A message from Mom appeared.
Jenna, please answer. We need to talk about what happened.
I read it twice.
Then I put the phone facedown.
Eli came into the kitchen a little later.
He asked whether he could have something to eat.
I made him a sandwich.
He sat at the counter.
I sat across from him.
For the first time that day, he looked almost like himself.
He told me something about school.
I listened.
I asked questions.
We talked about his game.
Normal things.
I was grateful for every minute.
After he went to bed, I finally checked my phone again.
There were six missed calls.
Three messages from Mom.
One from Dad.
And a message from Danielle.
It said she hoped I was happy with the scene I had created.
I read it.
Then I locked the screen.
I didn't answer.
For once, I didn't feel responsible for making her comfortable.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: My Mother Wanted Me to Forget What Happened, but I Was No Longer Willing to Make My Son Pay for Peace
I Kept Bringing My Son to a House Where His Own Aunt Made Him Feel Like He Didn’t Belong
Part 5 of 20
