The Panic Messages

Voicemail from my mom, sweet tone gone: “Emily, what is going on? Your stepdad got pulled over and found out the insurance is canceled. Are you serious?” My sister, from another number: “This is beyond petty. Grow up. We need these things. It’s not about money. It’s about family.” Family—interesting word for people who vacationed while I was throwing up from anesthesia and holding my newborn alone.

A Knock at the Door

A week later my mom showed up unannounced with a cheap stuffed animal like it could patch a hole in a boat. Brandon opened the door. She tried to push past him. He didn’t move. She called through the crack: “Emily, stop being dramatic. We just needed help. We’ve always been there for you.” Brandon looked back at me for permission. I said nothing. She left. That night, rocking our son, Brandon said, “You know, life could be just us. No more of their noise.” For the first time in months, I believed him.