Wesley was the first to come to his senses.
“Mom,” he began, his voice sounding falsely happy, “what a surprise! We thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“I feel fine,” I answered, looking him straight in the eye. “Kora, on the other hand, seems to have recovered surprisingly quickly.”
Even this morning she had such a high fever.
Kora blushed and lowered her eyes.
She was always a bad actress.
“Yeah, I was better by lunchtime,” she murmured.
“Miraculously.”
“Truly a miracle,” I nodded. “Especially since Doris Simmons saw you at the supermarket yesterday, perfectly healthy.”
Thelma set her glass down sharply on the table.
“Mom,” her voice was taut as a string. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Don’t, dear,” I turned to her. “Tell the truth. You always taught your son that lying is wrong. Remember?”
A waiter came to the table with an extra plate and a bottle of champagne. As he set out plates and glasses, everyone remained silent, smiling strainedly.
The perfect family.
People who love each other.
What a falsity.
“Grandma,” Reed said quietly, leaning toward me as the waiter stepped away, “I didn’t know. I thought you knew about dinner.”
“I know, honey,” I replied just as quietly, squeezing his hand under the table. “It’s not your fault.”
Wesley coughed, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Well, now that we’re all here,” he emphasized the word all with a faint note of irritation, “let’s get on with the party. Mom, you’re just in time for dessert.”
He made a sign to the waiter and began to cut the cake—huge, tiered, with a bride and groom on top.
It must have cost a fortune.
“What a beautiful cake,” I said, taking the plate with a slice. “Must be expensive.”
“Not at all, Mom,” Wesley said too quickly. “It’s not expensive at all. It’s just a small family party. Nothing fancy.”
I looked around at the table with exquisite dishes, crystal glasses, floral arrangements.
“Yes,” I nodded. “I can see how modest it is.”
“And I thought you were having financial difficulties. Isn’t that why you asked me for two thousand last month? For car repairs, if I’m not mistaken.”
One of the guests coughed.
The woman next to me—Kora’s friend—looked at Wesley curiously.
“Mom,” he gritted through his teeth, still trying to keep a smile on his face. “Can’t we discuss this later in the family circle?”
“Aren’t we in a family circle?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “Or am I no longer considered part of the family?”
“I’m sorry,” I guess I didn’t get the memo.
“Of course you’re part of the family,” Thelma interjected too loudly, too falsely cheerful. “It’s just that we thought it would be tiring for you. At your age, the late dinner, the noise.”
“At my age,” I repeated slowly. “Yes, of course. My age.”
Interesting that it didn’t stop me from watching your cats last month while you went on a spa weekend, or helping Wesley with his tax returns, or lending him the two thousand he never paid back.
There was silence at the table again.
Wesley was nervously fiddling with his cufflink, avoiding my gaze.
Kora was suddenly interested in the pattern on the tablecloth.
“I wanted to invite you, Mom,” Wesley finally said, feigning remorse. “I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable. You don’t like noisy gatherings, do you?”
“I don’t like loud gatherings,” I said. “That’s weird. Who threw the family Christmas dinner every year? Who organized a backyard barbecue for the whole neighborhood? Who gathered guests for your father’s birthday, even when he was already in the hospital?”
Wesley was silent.
He had nothing to say.
“It’s not because I’m my age or because I don’t like loud gatherings,” I continued in a quiet but firm voice. “It’s that you didn’t want to see me.”
“It was easier to lie than to invite my own mother.”
“Mom, that’s not true,” Thelma began.
But I held up my hand to stop her.
“I’m not finished, dear. I didn’t come here to make a scene. I didn’t come here to ruin your party. I came here to understand.”
I looked around at their faces—tense, confused, scared.
“I wanted to understand when my children turned into people who could lie to their own mother’s face, who could exclude her from a family celebration like some kind of…”
I hesitated for a moment, searching for a word.
“…like some inconvenient obligation.”
“Grandma,” Reed said quietly.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
“I know, sweetheart. This has nothing to do with you.”
At that moment, Lewis came to the table with a bottle of champagne.
“I hope everyone is enjoying the evening,” he asked, though it was clear from his face that he could feel the tension at the table.
“Everything is just fine, Lewis,” I replied with a genuine smile. “Great restaurant, great service. Always the best for you.”
Lewis filled my glass with champagne.
“I remember how your pies saved me as a child from the perpetual hunger of adolescence. No one in Blue Springs bakes like you.”
I felt a warmth rush to my cheeks. For the first time all evening, I had a real smile on my face.
“You’ve always been gallant, Lewis. Even when you were a child.”
He smiled back, but his gaze was serious, understanding.
Then he turned to Wesley.
“Mr. Thornberry, may I ask why you didn’t list your mother on the guest list? I’ve had some confusion about the seating arrangements.”
Wesley choked on his champagne.
“Yeah, we… it was a misunderstanding,” he mumbled. “Mom was supposed to come, of course. It’s just that this morning she said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“It’s strange,” Lewis went on nonchalantly. “I thought she said you told her that you had cancelled the dinner because of your wife’s illness.”
Kora made a strange sound—something between a cough and a sob.
Thelma stared at her plate as if it contained the answers to all the questions of the universe.
“Apparently, there was some kind of misunderstanding,” Wesley said. His face flushed red.
“Apparently,” Lewis agreed dryly. “Well, the important thing is that we’re all here now. Enjoy the evening.”
He squeezed my hand again and stepped away, leaving us in an even more tense silence than before.
Wesley was the first to break it.
“Mom, I can explain,” he began. “Cora and I wanted to spend this evening in a small circle.”
“A small circle of fifteen people?” I clarified, looking around the table.
“I mean, without the older generation,” he continued awkwardly. “There’s no—”
“Kora’s parents,” I finished for him. “No. You’re lying.”
I said calmly.
“Lying again.”
“Kora’s parents died five years ago, and you know it. I was at both funerals.”
“And your brother-in-law’s parents?” I nodded toward Thelma’s husband. “I can see them at that table over there. They waved at me as I entered.”
Wesley paled even more, if that was even possible.
“Mom, Thelma—” he started.
“Mom,” Thelma interjected, her voice trembling. “We didn’t mean to offend you. We just thought you might be uncomfortable. You’ve been complaining about your health lately, and we—”
“Everybody complains about our health sometimes, dear,” I said. “But usually the people closest to us ask how we’re feeling, not decide for us.”
I sipped my champagne. It was excellent. Dry with light notes of citrus and vanilla.
“You know what the saddest part is?” I continued, looking at my kids. “It’s not that you didn’t invite me. It’s that you lied.”
Instead of honestly saying, “Mom, we want to spend this evening without you,” you made up a story about being sick. Made me worry about Kora’s health. Calling, offering to help.
I shook my head.
“I’d always taught you to be honest, even when the truth is unpleasant, even when it might upset someone. Because lying—lies destroy trust. And without trust, there’s no family.”
“Mom…” Wesley’s voice trembled. “We just—”
“You just didn’t want your old mother to ruin your party,” I finished for him. “I understand. I really do.”
“But you know what? You could have just told me that. I would have understood. Maybe I would have been upset, but I would have understood—because I’ve always respected your right to make decisions, even when I didn’t agree with them.”
I finished my champagne and put my glass on the table.
“But you chose to lie instead. And now that I’m sitting here, I see more than just those lies. I see all the times you’ve lied to me over the years.”
“When you asked for money for emergencies and spent it on entertainment.”
“When you said you couldn’t visit me because of important business and you went out of town for the weekend.”
Wesley tried to say something, but I stopped him with a gesture.
“I don’t want to hear excuses, son.”
“I’m just curious. When did you stop respecting your mother?”
The question hung in the air.
Wesley looked at me with the expression of a man caught red-handed.
Kora was nervously fidgeting with her napkin, avoiding my gaze.
Thelma looked like she was ready to fall through the ground.
“Mom,” Wesley finally said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Let’s not make a scene. We can talk about this later in a more appropriate setting.”
“A more appropriate setting?” I repeated, feeling a cold resolve growing inside.
“Not even anger. A cold resolve.”
“You mean when there are no witnesses around?”
