Part 2
“Give me the bag.”
Michael held out his hand.
I kept my handbag against my side.
“Why?”
“Because you’re upset.”
“I’m holding a handbag, Michael.”
“You’re standing beside an active aircraft after being told to leave.”
Lauren stepped off the last stair.
“Security doesn’t know she’s with us anymore.”
I looked at her.
“Anymore?”
“You’re not traveling with us.”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck.
“Lauren.”
“What? It’s true.”
She turned toward the terminal.
One of the airport employees stood near the glass doors.
Lauren raised her hand.
“Excuse me?”
Michael caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
She pulled free.
“You said she wouldn’t make a scene.”
“I’m not making one,” I said.
Lauren laughed without looking at me.
“Of course you think that.”
The employee approached slowly.
“Is everything all right?”
Michael answered before I could.
“My mother was supposed to travel with us.”
“Was supposed to?”
“Plans changed.”
The employee looked between us.
Michael pointed toward my suitcase.
“She needs transportation back home.”
I felt something tighten behind my ribs.
Not because he wanted me gone.
Because of how easily he turned me into a logistical problem.
The employee nodded.
“We can arrange a car.”
“Thank you.”
Michael sounded relieved.
I looked at him.
“You’re welcome to speak to me instead of around me.”
His face hardened.
“I’ve been speaking to you for ten minutes.”
Lauren crossed her arms.
“And somehow we’re still here.”
The employee shifted backward.
I spared him the discomfort.
“I’ll wait by my suitcase.”
“Good,” Michael said.
The word came too quickly.
I walked away from the stairs.
Behind me, Lauren spoke under her breath.
“Finally.”
I reached my suitcase and rested one hand on its handle.
Then the cabin door opened wider.
“Grandma!”
Emma ran down the stairs.
Michael spun around.
“Emma, get back inside.”
She ignored him and ran straight toward me.
I barely had time to open my arms.
She hit me around the waist.
“Don’t go.”
For one second, everything else disappeared.
I put my hand against the back of her head.
“Sweetheart.”
“You said you were coming.”
“I know.”
She pulled away.
Her eyes were already wet.
“Then come.”
Michael reached us.
“Emma, enough.”
She turned on him.
“You lied.”
His face changed.
“Watch your tone.”
“You told Noah she was coming.”
“Emma.”
“You told me too.”
Lauren hurried over.
“Get on the plane.”
Emma stepped behind me.
“No.”
The single word stopped all of us.
Lauren stared at her daughter.
“What did you say?”
Emma gripped the back of my blouse.
“I’m staying with Grandma.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t swear at her,” I said quietly.
His eyes opened.
“Stay out of this.”
Emma’s fingers tightened against my back.
And I stayed exactly where I was.
“Emma, come here.”
Lauren’s voice had gone flat.
Emma remained behind me.
I felt every breath she took.
“Mom said come here.”
Michael moved around my left side.
Emma moved with him, keeping me between them.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “your parents are talking to you.”
“I don’t want to go.”
Lauren stared at me.
“Tell her.”
I looked down.
Emma’s face was pressed against my arm.
“Emma.”
“No.”
“You need to go with your parents.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
The hurt in them arrived before the tears.
“But you said—”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
There was no answer I could give without making her carry something that belonged to adults.
I crouched in front of her.
“You’re going to have a good weekend.”
“I won’t.”
“Noah needs you.”
That made her hesitate.
I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“And I need you to listen to your parents.”
She stared at me.
“You always say family stays together.”
My throat tightened.
Behind her, nobody spoke.
I forced a small smile.
“I do say that.”
“Then why aren’t you coming?”
Lauren shifted impatiently.
Michael looked toward the terminal.
I stood.
“Go get Noah.”
Emma shook her head.
“Please.”
That word cost me.
She released my blouse.
Lauren reached for her.
Emma jerked away.
“I can walk.”
Lauren’s hand froze.
Michael looked at his daughter.
“Emma.”
She wiped her face with both palms.
Then she climbed the stairs alone.
At the top, she turned toward me.
I lifted my hand.
She didn’t lift hers.
She disappeared inside.
Lauren faced me.
“Do you see what you just did?”
I blinked.
“What I did?”
“She was perfectly fine until you encouraged this.”
“I told her to go with you.”
“You let her cling to you first.”
Michael stepped between us again.
“Enough.”
Lauren pointed at me.
“No. She does this constantly.”
“Does what?”
“Makes herself indispensable.”
I said nothing.
“That’s why the kids react like this.”
Michael’s gaze dropped.
Lauren continued.
“Every favor has strings.”
I looked at my son.
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Is that what you think?”
His silence lasted too long.
Finally, he said, “Sometimes.”
Something inside me went very still.
Lauren gave a small nod.
As if a verdict had finally been entered.
“I helped because you asked.”
Michael’s eyes stayed on the pavement.
“I know.”
“When Emma was born, you asked me to stay.”
“I know.”
“Six weeks.”
Lauren made a sharp sound.
“Here we go.”
I looked at her.
“You were recovering.”
“And somehow you’ve never let anyone forget it.”
I stopped speaking.
Michael rubbed his forehead.
“This is exactly the problem.”
“What problem?”
“You keep a ledger.”
“I don’t.”
“You just listed things.”
“Because you called them strings.”
He looked at me now.
“You helped with the house.”
“Yes.”
“You helped with the down payment.”
“Yes.”
“You introduced me to Peter Caldwell.”
“Because you asked.”
“You watched the kids.”
“Because you asked.”
“Exactly.”
I waited.
Michael spread his hands.
“You insert yourself into everything.”
For a moment, I couldn’t find a response.
Not because there wasn’t one.
Because every answer sounded like begging someone to remember his own life accurately.
Lauren stepped closer to him.
“We’ve been trying to establish boundaries.”
I looked from her to my son.
“By inviting me on a trip and removing me at the airplane?”
Michael’s face flushed.
“I made a mistake inviting you.”
There it was.
Clean.
Simple.
Much worse than anger.
I nodded once.
“All right.”
His expression flickered.
He had expected resistance.
Lauren hadn’t.
She recovered first.
“So you understand?”
“I understand what he said.”
A car pulled onto the service lane near the terminal.
The employee from earlier walked toward us.
“Mrs. Harrison?”
“Yes?”
“Your vehicle is here.”
Michael exhaled.
“Great.”
The employee hesitated.
“There’s one issue.”
Lauren looked at her watch.
“What now?”
“The driver can only take Mrs. Harrison to the main terminal.”
Michael frowned.
“She needs to go home.”
“She’ll need to arrange transportation from there.”
Lauren looked at me.
“You have a phone.”
Michael reached into his pocket.
“I’ll order something.”
“No.”
He paused.
I took hold of my suitcase.
“I can manage.”
“Mom.”
“You wanted me to leave.”
He lowered his phone.
I started toward the waiting car.
Behind me, Lauren said something too quietly for me to hear.
Michael answered.
Then both of them laughed.
I kept walking.
“Mrs. Harrison.”
I stopped beside the car.
The employee who had arranged it held the rear door open.
“Yes?”
He lowered his voice.
“I need to confirm something before you leave.”
I waited.
He glanced toward the jet.
“Is Mr. Harrison authorized to make changes to today’s passenger list?”
The question hung between us.
I looked at him.
His expression remained professionally blank.
Behind him, Michael called my name.
“Mom.”
The employee straightened immediately.
I did not answer his question.
“Thank you for the car.”
He gave a small nod.
“Of course.”
I placed my suitcase in the trunk myself.
Michael crossed the pavement toward us.
“Wait.”
I closed the trunk.
“What?”
His anger had changed.
Now he looked almost reasonable.
That was usually when he hurt me most.
“I don’t want us ending things like this.”
“We’re not ending anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
I almost smiled at the repetition.
Instead, I waited.
He glanced toward Lauren.
She stood near the stairs with her arms folded.
“I need you to understand something.”
“All right.”
“This isn’t about what you’ve done for us.”
I said nothing.
“It’s about boundaries.”
“You’ve said that.”
“And respect.”
That word almost made me look away.
Michael continued.
“You expect access because you help.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“I expected access today because you invited me.”
His mouth tightened.
“See?”
I stared at him.
He shook his head.
“You always make everything about respect.”
For years, that sentence could stop me.
It did now too.
Just differently.
I looked down at my hands.
One still held the handle of my handbag.
The other was trembling.
I curled my fingers into my palm.
Michael noticed.
His expression softened.
For one foolish second, I thought he might apologize.
Instead, he touched my elbow.
“Go home.”
I pulled my arm free without looking at him.
“Okay.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
I opened the car door.
Through the jet window, Noah’s face appeared beside Emma’s.
Neither child waved.
I lowered myself into the back seat.
Michael closed the door for me.
The lock clicked.
Outside the glass, my son turned away before the car had even started.
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