The moment Virginia went into labor, she'd grabbed her suitcase and left on vacation, and because she didn't want to be bored, she'd dragged Jeffrey along with her.
From the day that baby was born until now, she hadn't changed a single diaper.
Not a dollar spent, not a finger lifted.
And this was what she called a spirit of sacrifice from the elder generation?
When I stayed silent, Virginia's tone softened a little:
"Mom, come on, don't be like that."
"Jeff and his mom finally made it back. Let's all just go grab something to eat, walk around a bit."
She reached for my arm the way she always used to, sweet and coaxing.
I pulled away.
"No, that's alright."
"You all go."
They were the family, after all.
I was just an outsider they expected to hand over rent and utility money.
That meal—I couldn't have eaten a bite.
Virginia just gave a faint nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world:
"Then go clear your stuff out of the spare room. My mother-in-law needs it tonight."
Lucia was right behind her:
"Yes, yes—hurry it up. And strip every sheet and pillowcase you slept on, then disinfect the whole room top to bottom."
"You're from the countryside. God knows what kind of filth you tracked in."