Chapter 3 - The Silent House
I didn't go back to our house until ten o'clock that night.
Theo was sleeping soundly in his car seat in the back of my car. My mother had offered to let us stay the night at her house, but I needed to face reality. I needed to see if Graham had meant what he said on the phone.
When I pulled into our driveway, the house was dark except for the single porch light burning near the front door. My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest.
I carried Theo upstairs, tucked him into his bed, and kissed his forehead. He mumbled softly in his sleep and turned over, completely unaware of the earthquake that had just fractured his parents' world.
I walked down the hall to our master bedroom.
The door was pushed halfway open. I stepped inside and turned on the small bedside lamp. Graham was lying on top of the covers, fully dressed in the clothes he had worn to his parents' house, staring blankly at the ceiling. An empty glass sat on his nightstand.
He didn't look at me when I walked in.
"Theo is asleep," I said softly, standing near the foot of the bed.
Graham let out a cold, bitter breath through his nose. "Glad to hear it."
"Graham, we need to talk about what happened," I began, pulling off my scarf.
He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his jaw was set tight. "There's nothing to talk about, Margo. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed my parents. My mother didn't eat dinner tonight. Do you know that? She sat in her living room with a headache while Renee tried to find a restaurant that was open on Thanksgiving."
"Your mother didn't eat because her pride was hurt, Graham," I retorted, feeling my own anger flare up again. "Not because there wasn't food. She insulted my work the second she walked into the room!"
"She said 'I suppose it'll do'!" Graham shouted, standing up and towering over me. "That is not an insult! It’s just an expression! She’s sixty-eight years old! She comes from a generation that doesn't shower people with fake compliments! Why do you have to take everything so personally?"
"Because it wasn't just tonight!" I shouted back, my voice trembling with years of suppressed pain. "It’s been seven years, Graham! Seven years of your sister picking apart my clothes, my career, and my parenting! Seven years of your mother making passive-aggressive comments about my cooking, my hair, and our home! And every single time I come to you, you tell me I'm being too sensitive! You tell me 'that's just how she is'!"
"Because that is how she is!" Graham snapped, rubbing his face with both hands. "She's my mother! She raised me! She gave us the down payment for this house, Margo! Have you forgotten that?"
The room went completely still.
The air felt thin, suffocating. I looked at Graham as if looking at a stranger.
Three years ago, when we were struggling to buy our first home in Toronto's hyper-competitive real estate market, Brenda and Walter had given us fifty thousand dollars toward our down payment. I had been overwhelmed with gratitude at the time. But over the years, that money had become an invisible chain around my neck. Every time I tried to set a boundary, every time I asked Graham to stand up for me, that down payment was brought up as proof that we owed his family absolute submission.
"So that's what this is?" I whispered, tears burning the back of my eyes. "Because your parents gave us money three years ago, I'm supposed to sit there and let them treat me like garbage for the rest of my life? Is that the deal, Graham?"
"They don't treat you like garbage!" Graham yelled. "They invite you into their home! They host us for every holiday! They love Theo! But you walked in there tonight looking for a fight! You've been bitter about my family for months, Margo, and tonight you finally blew up because your stupid ego couldn't handle a comment about a turkey!"
"A stupid ego?" I echoed, my chest aching so deeply I could barely breathe. "I worked fifteen hours on that meal while taking care of our sick child!"
"I don't care about the damn turkey!" Graham roared. "I care about loyalty! And tonight, you proved to my entire family that you don't have any!"
He grabbed his coat off the armchair, grabbed his car keys from the dresser, and shoved past me toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I called out, following him down the stairs.
May you like
"I'm going back to my parents' house," Graham said without turning around. "I'm going to sleep in my old room. Because right now, I can't even stand to look at you."
The front door slammed shut behind him. The heavy sound echoed through the silent house, leaving me standing alone in the dark hallway.
