We were about 15 minutes into the meal when he folded his napkin very precisely and set it beside his plate. Then he stood up slowly.
The table went quiet.
Mark said nothing for a long time.
Mark reached beside his chair, lifted his briefcase onto the table, and clicked it open.
He reached inside and pulled out a document, and the moment Brenda saw what it was, the color left her face as if someone had pulled a plug.
“Mark,” she said. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“It’s exactly what you think it is, Mom,” Mark snapped, sliding it across the table to her.
The moment Brenda saw what it was, the color left her face.
It was a formal cease-and-desist letter.
Formal. Typed. Reviewed by an actual attorney, as Mark explained in a calm voice while Brenda sat frozen with the document in her hands.
If she interfered with our children again in any way, contact would be cut. No visits. No calls. No exceptions.
Brenda looked up from the page with eyes that had gone from pale to furious.
“You are out of your mind,” she hissed. “I am your mother. This is insane.”
“Read it fully, Mom,” Mark demanded.
“I am your mother. This is insane.”
Brenda slammed her hand on the table. “I will NOT sit here and be treated this way.”
The table was completely silent. Mark’s brother was staring at his plate. His sister was watching Mark with an unreadable expression.
Brenda set the letter down and pushed it away.
Mark looked across the table at me.
“Amy, is it ready?”
I pulled a small flash drive from my pocket and walked over to the TV.
“I will NOT sit here and be treated this way.”
After sliding it into the USB port, I picked up the remote.
The TV in Brenda’s dining room flickered on, filling the room with the image of Lily in a hospital chair, wearing the yellow cardigan she refused to take off during the first weeks of treatment.
Eight months ago, Lily was diagnosed with leukemia.
The treatment has been hard on her in every way, but the part that broke her heart most was losing her hair. Lily had always loved her hair, long and golden, the same shade as Leo’s, worn in two braids every single day.
Lily was diagnosed with leukemia.
When it started coming out in clumps, Lily would sit on her bed holding her favorite doll, Terry, who was bald too, and cry so quietly it somehow hurt even more.
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