The Chair in the Center of the Table
Nathan looked around at the carved turkey, the full wine glasses, and the occupied chairs filled with people who had spent years treating me like a servant who happened to share their name.
“No,” he replied. “This is a performance. And she’s done playing her role.”
My father clenched his jaw. “Nathan, let’s speak like adults. It isn’t wise to mix personal matters with business.”
That was when I understood everything. It didn’t hurt him to see me leave. It hurt him to see me leave with Nathan.
I slowly untied the apron and placed it on the counter.
My mother grabbed my arm. “If you walk out that door, don’t come back expecting us to beg you.”