Christa laughed.
Owen pretended not to hear.
I remembered helping them move into their house.
I was sixty-one, carrying boxes upstairs while Christa stood in the hallway directing everyone.
I remembered the countless birthday cakes I’d baked for Maya.
Chocolate with raspberry filling.
Every year.
I remembered the groceries I brought whenever I visited because Christa always seemed to be missing something.
Butter.
Flour.
Vegetables.
I remembered their vacation to Prince Edward Island.
Owen had called to say the cottage rental was more expensive than expected.
I’d paid fourteen hundred dollars to help.
Christa posted dozens of beautiful vacation photographs.
Nobody mentioned my contribution.
And then there were the monthly expenses.
Owen had been on my phone plan since college.
When he married Christa, I added her, too.
I was still paying for both phones.
I’d also kept helping with his car insurance.
And for two years, I’d transferred four hundred dollars every month to support Maya’s expenses.
