Chapter 3 - THE CUT WALS DEEP
The morning sun hit the snow-covered pine trees outside my kitchen window, turning the backyard into a blinding sheet of gold and white.
I woke up at seven, made myself a pot of fresh dark roast coffee, fried two eggs in butter, and sat down at the small oak table by the window. Ordinarily, Boxing Day—December twenty-sixth—was a day of intense chaos for me. Every single year like clockwork, Jessica would show up at my front door around ten in the morning, unannounced, dumping Leo and Mia in my living room with a list of instructions before rushing off with Greg to hit the massive post-Christmas sales at the high-end shopping malls. She never asked if I had plans. She never asked if I was tired. She simply assumed my house was a free daycare center.
I took a slow, quiet sip of my hot coffee, listening to the gentle hum of the refrigerator.
At precisely 9:15 AM, the silence was shattered by the loud, rhythmic ringing of my landline telephone on the kitchen wall.
I didn't jump. I didn't rush over to answer it. I simply leaned back in my chair and turned my head to look at the small digital screen on the caller ID mounted beside the sink.
JESSICA MILLER
I took another calm sip of coffee.
The phone rang four times. Then five. Then six. Finally, the automated answering machine clicked on with a loud beep.
Jessica’s voice blasted through the small speaker, completely stripping away the cold, detached arrogance she had worn the night before. Her voice was laced with pure panic, sharp and shrill.
“Mom?! Mom, answer the phone! Are you there?! Pick up! My phone isn't working—Greg’s phone isn't working either! It says 'No Service' and 'SOS Only'! We can't make calls, we can't use our data, nothing! I tried calling the phone company from the landline and they said the account owner suspended the lines! Did you do this?! Mom, answer me right now! This isn't funny!”
The machine beeped, cutting her off as the allotted recording time ran out.
I set my coffee cup down on the saucer with a soft, deliberate click.
Before the digital display could even turn off, the landline began ringing again immediately.
I let it ring three times before I casually stood up, walked over to the wall unit, lifted the receiver, and pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?” I said, my tone completely pleasant, completely even.
“Mom!” Jessica practically screamed into the receiver. “What the hell is going on with our phones?! I woke up this morning to drop off the kids and check my emails, and both my phone and Greg’s phone have zero service! The network says our lines have been suspended! I had to use the stupid landline to call you!”
“Yes, I know,” I said smoothly. “I suspended them last night.”
There was a long, dead silence on the other end of the line. For five full seconds, the only sound was the faint crackle of the static.
“You... you what?” Jessica gasped, her voice sounding stunned, as if her brain couldn't process the words I had just spoken. “Why on earth would you do that?! We need our phones! Greg has client calls scheduled for this week! I have my group chats and my social media! Un-suspend them right now!”
“Jessica, you told me last night that you are an adult operating on a very tight budget,” I replied, keeping my voice as calm as a placid lake. “And as an adult on a tight budget, managing your own utility bills is your responsibility. I am no longer carrying non-dependents on my master account. If you and Greg want phone service, you can simply open your own account with a provider of your choice today.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking with fury. “You’re doing this because of last night?! Because of a stupid four-dollar mug?! You are acting like a crazy, vindictive old woman! We are your family!”
“I am acting like a woman who pays her own way,” I corrected her firmly. “And I suggest you begin doing the same.”
“Unblock the phones, Mom! I’m serious! We’re coming over right now to drop off Leo and Mia anyway. We have reservations for the post-holiday sales at the downtown outlet mall at eleven, and—”
“Do not drop the children off here, Jessica,” I interrupted, my tone turning to ice.
The line went dead silent again.
“What?” she whispered.
“I am not babysitting today. In fact, I am taking a long, much-needed break from all domestic duties. If you come to my house today, the front door will be locked, and I will not open it.”
“Mom, you can't do this to us! We have plans!”
“Then cancel them,” I said. “Have a nice day, Jessica.”
I pulled the receiver away from my ear and set it back down on the wall cradle.
My heart was hammering against my chest like a trapped bird, but a surge of incredible, electrifying power rushed through my veins. For thirty years, I had been the pushover mother who swallowed every insult to keep her daughter happy.
Not anymore.
I walked straight to my front hallway, turned the heavy brass deadbolt lock on the front door, and flipped the switch to turn off the porch light.
Twenty minutes later, a white, luxury SUV pulled hard into my driveway, spraying slushy snow across the manicured lawn. Through the front living room sheer curtains, I watched as Greg slammed his door, marched up the brick walkway, and pounded his fist frantically against my front door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Natalie! Open the door!” Greg roared through the wood. “This is ridiculous! We know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”
I sat comfortably in my armchair in the darkened living room, taking a slow sip of my hot coffee, watching him through the side window.
He pounded for five straight minutes. He rang the doorbell ten times in rapid succession. When he finally realized I was not going to break, he kicked the lower wooden panel of the door in frustration, turned around, and stomped back to his luxury vehicle.
May you like
As the SUV reversed out of my driveway with screeching tires, I smiled into my coffee cup.
They thought suspending their cell phones was the extent of my anger. They had no idea that in less than forty-eight hours, the real storm was going to hit them.
