Chapter 2

On Sunday, Aaron drove us to his parents' house and told me not to go in expecting a fight. "You said you would talk to your mother." "I will. Just let lunch go well first." I had brought the serving dish his mother asked me to return. For a moment, I considered leaving it in the car. Then I carried it inside, because seven years of habit did not disappear in the time it took to walk up a driveway. His sister was in the dining room, showing her mother photographs on her phone. They stopped scrolling when I came in. "Put that in the kitchen," his mother said. "There should be room beside the sink." She kissed Aaron's cheek before he had taken off his coat. At lunch, she raised her glass toward him. "I'm glad we can keep the cabin another year. Your father loves having somewhere for everyone to come back to." Aaron smiled. "Of course." He knew the rent came out of my account. He had watched me move money from savings the previous month after an unexpected repair bill at home. I waited for him to say something. His father asked whether he had fixed the loose railing on the cabin deck. Aaron said he would look at it when they arrived. "The owner already had it repaired," I said. "It was included in the November work." His mother put down her glass. "We were thanking Aaron, Nora." "I know. I was only saying the railing is done." "There's always an invoice with you lately. Can't we enjoy one meal without discussing what everything costs?" Heat rose into my face. I hadn't mentioned an amount. I hadn't asked anyone to repay me. I had answered a question about a railing. Aaron rested his hand on my knee beneath the table. Once, that touch would have comforted me. "Let it go," he murmured. His sister leaned back in her chair. "Mom's just trying to have a nice Christmas. Everyone has been stressed enough." Everyone. I looked at Aaron's hand and remembered another winter, when he had thanked me for paying the cabin bills while he got back on his feet. "It won't always be like this," he had promised. "I know what you're doing for us." I had believed the us included me. His mother asked whether I had ordered the breakfast pastries yet. "No." "The bakery gets booked up. Your father likes the almond ones." I turned toward Aaron. "Did you speak to her?" He knew what I meant. His hand tightened briefly on my knee before he withdrew it. "This isn't the time." His mother folded her napkin. "There's nothing more to discuss. You don't enjoy yourself at these gatherings. I don't see why you're determined to make everyone feel guilty about that." "I never said I didn't enjoy Christmas at the cabin." "You spent half of last Christmas in the kitchen." I stared at her. I had spent half of last Christmas in the kitchen because dinner was for nine people and she wanted everything served together. Aaron had promised to help after one more game of cards. He had come in when I was washing the roasting pan. "I was cooking your dinner," I said. "No one forced you." Aaron's father began asking his sister about work. She answered immediately, and neither of them looked at me. My husband picked up his fork. I sat through the rest of lunch with a plate I could no longer finish. When we were putting on our coats, his sister asked their mother whether her boyfriend should bring his own towels to the cabin. "Of course not. Nora's bringing the clean ones." The boyfriend had been in the family for less than a year. I had bought every towel in the upstairs bathroom. Outside, Aaron unlocked the car and reached for my serving dish. I kept hold of it. "Her boyfriend is going?" "He's spending Christmas with her." "But your wife isn't spending it with you." "He doesn't have a problem with my mother." I stood beside the open passenger door, unable to answer for a moment. Aaron mistook my silence for an invitation to continue. "This is what I mean. Every little thing becomes another comparison. Can't you see why everyone wants a break?" I looked back at the house. Through the window, his mother was hugging her daughter goodbye. "Everyone?" I asked. Aaron looked away. His mother opened the front door before I could get into the car. "Nora, don't forget the towels. There'll be one extra person this year."