Chapter 7 - Jenna’s Confession and the Awakening
True to her word, Jenna pulled up in her dented blue sedan at precisely 9:55 AM the next morning. She looked tired, her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame.
When I opened the front door, she didn't come in right away. She stood on the porch, looking around nervously, as if expecting Carol to pop out from behind our hydrangea bushes.
"She doesn't know I'm here," Jenna whispered, stepping inside as soon as I pulled the door open. "If she found out, she’d cut off my car insurance by noon."
"Take your boots off and come sit down," I said gently, taking her coat and hanging it by the door. "You're safe here, Jen. Nobody is tracking you."
I poured her a mug of hot coffee with plenty of vanilla creamer—just how she liked it—and set a plate of raspberry pastries on the table.
Jenna sat down, wrapping both hands around the ceramic mug as if she were trying to absorb its heat. She stared into the dark liquid for a long time before she finally looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I paused, leaning against the counter. "Sorry for what, Jen?"
"For not saying anything at the table," she said, her voice cracking. "When mom called Lily pitiful... I just sat there. I looked down at my plate. I wanted to say something, Maya, I swear I did. But my throat locked up. It’s like every time mom is in the room, I turn back into a terrified twelve-year-old."
The bitterness I had felt toward Jenna on Christmas night evaporated, replaced by a deep, aching wave of empathy. I walked over, pulled out the chair next to hers, and sat down, taking her trembling hands in mine.
"I know, sweetie," I said softly. "I spent thirty years feeling that exact same way. That's the trap Carol sets. She makes you feel like speaking up is harder and scarier than just swallowing the poison."
"She’s been crying to everyone that you're cruel," Jenna continued, wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand. "She told Aunt Susan that you’re keeping her only grandchild away out of pure malice. But... but Arthur told me what you did with the Christmas check."
Jenna looked up, a faint smile breaking through her tear-streaked face. "You gave it back."
"I did."
"God, I wish I had your spine," Jenna sighed. "Since Christmas, the house has been unbearable. Mom hasn't stopped complaining about how 'unappreciative' everyone is. But for the first time, Aunt Clara told her to shut up and eat her toast. It was glorious."
We both laughed, the heavy tension in the room lifting like morning mist.
"Listen to me, Jenna," I said, looking straight into her eyes. "You don't have to cut mom out completely if you aren't ready. You’re still finishing school, and you need that support. But you don't have to carry her water anymore, either. You don't have to agree with her insults, and you don't have to lie for her."
May you like
Jenna nodded slowly, a massive weight visibly rolling off her shoulders. "I can do that. I'm done defending her behavior, Maya. And... I want to see my niece. Without mom knowing. Is that okay?"
"Of course it's okay," I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Lily loves her auntie Jen. Just leave the spy network at the front door."
