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<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u201cDust,\u201d Bella interrupted. \u201cMicro-dust. It gets into the fibers. Richard! Richard, come here!\u201d<\/p>\n
Richard trotted over, looking nervous. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, babe?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother is ruining the aesthetic,\u201d Bella complained, gesturing to me like I was a pile of dirty laundry. \u201cShe\u2019s sitting on the showpiece. And look at her\u2026 she looks like a librarian.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair. \u201cMaybe you could stand? Or go to the patio? The furniture is\u2026 sensitive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my son. The boy I had raised. The boy whose first business failure I had secretly bailed out so he wouldn\u2019t lose his confidence.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m tired, Richard,\u201d I said softly. \u201cMy knees.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care about your knees!\u201d Bella shrieked.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t wait for me to move. She put her hand on my shoulder and\u00a0shoved<\/i>.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t a gentle nudge. It was a push.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t prepared. I slid off the slippery leather and landed hard on the polished concrete floor. My hip bone cracked against the ground. A shock of pain shot up my spine.<\/p>\n
The music stopped. The guests nearby gasped.<\/p>\n
I lay there on the floor, looking up at my daughter-in-law.<\/p>\n