Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14: THE SUPERMARKET AISLE
The real test of the new architecture happened in public.
Emma was in the produce section on a Tuesday afternoon.
She was deciding between green apples and red ones.
“Emma.”
The voice was clipped, polished, and belonging to the country club.
Beatrice. Diane’s oldest friend.
Emma froze for a fraction of a second.
Then she turned.
Beatrice wore a silk scarf and a look of deep, practiced pity.
“I haven’t seen you in months,” Beatrice said.
“We’ve been busy,” Emma replied smoothly.
Beatrice stepped closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a tragedy.
“Diane is heartbroken, you know. She cries every day. She doesn't understand why she’s being kept from her only grandson.”
The old Emma would have stammered.
She would have felt the crushing weight of societal guilt.
The new Emma looked at the apples. She placed three red ones into a bag.
“She understands perfectly, Beatrice,” Emma said quietly.
“A mother’s love—”
“A mother’s love doesn’t require a lawyer to decipher,” Emma interrupted.
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn't look angry.
She just looked finished.
Beatrice blinked, stunned by the absolute lack of submission.
“Tell Diane we are doing well,” Emma said.
She placed the apples in her cart.
She walked away.
Her hands did not shake.
May you like
Her cart did not rattle.
She had finally learned that you do not have to attend every argument you are invited to.
