My stomach was aching with hunger.
Finally, I picked up
a plate.
I placed one spoonful of mashed potatoes on it.
Then I heard my mother’s voice.
“Olivia, don’t start filling your plate. You didn’t pay for this dinner. Let the guests eat first.”
The words carried across the room.
Camille smiled over her overflowing plate.
“Mom’s right. Real family comes first.”
And suddenly, I wasn’t thirty-four anymore.
I was nine.
Standing beside a birthday cake in our backyard.
Watching everyone else enjoy the pink frosting roses while I waited for a piece I apparently hadn’t earned.
I could almost feel Mom’s fingers around my wrist again.
*Don’t be greedy.*
*You didn’t pay for that.*
My cheeks grew hot.
I looked down at the plate.
One spoonful of potatoes.
That was all.
And something inside me became perfectly clear.
I wasn’t furious.
