I still loved my aunts and cousins. I still wanted Leo to know his extended family. I refused to let two toxic women become the permanent gatekeepers of my entire bloodline.
So, we packed the diaper bag and went for a couple of hours. The second we walked through the sliding glass doors to the backyard patio, the atmosphere shifted. At least three separate conversations visibly stopped and changed subjects. It was almost comical how awkward it was.
Chloe was standing across the yard near the grill with my mother. When Chloe saw me walk in, holding the baby carrier, her face went completely stiff. She didn't come over. I didn't either. I greeted my aunts, got Marcus a plate of food, and minded my own business.
Then, about an hour later, Chloe purposely walked close enough to my table to ensure I could hear her. She loudly made a snide comment to a cousin about how some people get absolutely everything they want in life and still act like wounded victims. I took a bite of potato salad and completely ignored it. A few minutes later, she doubled down.
She said something about how incredibly easy it must be to have a perfect shiny little replacement family while other people are left picking up the pieces and rebuilding their destroyed lives. My mother was standing right next to her. She didn't tell Chloe to lower her voice. She didn't tell her to stop.
She just gave Chloe that tiny, sickeningly sweet, sympathetic nod she always gave her. The one that silently communicated, "Yes, sweetheart. Your pain is the only pain that is valid. Keep going."
I carefully set my plastic fork down on my paper plate. I turned around in my chair, looked directly at Chloe, and asked in a loud, clear voice, "Do you want to say something to me directly, Chloe, or are you just going to keep performing for the crowd?" The yard went dead silent. Chloe looked at me, her eyes flashing with defensive anger, and said, "No, I don't think talking to you accomplishes anything. You lack empathy." I wanted to bring up the vasectomy right then and there.
God, I wanted to do it so badly. I wanted to stand up and scream. Does everyone here know your husband lied to you for years and let you shoot yourself up with hormones while mom blamed me for your sadness? The devastating sentence was right there on the tip of my tongue, loaded and ready to fire.
I didn't say it, not because I was a noble, perfect saint. I didn't say it because it ultimately wasn't my secret to explode in front of 20 people eating hot dogs and more importantly because I suddenly felt a small hand tugging on my shirt sleeve. I looked down. Leo was standing right behind me holding a half-eaten brownie.
He leaned in and whispered, his voice trembling slightly, "Mom, why is grandma looking at you so mad?" My heart shattered. I immediately picked up the heavy diaper bag, turned to Marcus, and quietly told him we were leaving right now. We walked toward the side gate.