Something in her tone made my stomach twist, but I stayed quiet. I was in the kitchen chopping carrots for dinner, onions filling the air. I could hear the kids chatting in the living room while I tried to stay calm.
Just finish dinner, I told myself. Just survive the visit. Then I heard it — the sharp crinkle of foil.
“Yay, chocolate!”
My heart dropped. I hadn’t given her any chocolate. I ran to the living room.
There Lily sat on the rug, legs crossed, a half-unwrapped chocolate bar in her hands. Her fingers sticky, her smile wide. “Lily!” I yelled.
“What are you doing?!”
She looked up, confused. “Grandma said it’s okay!”
I rushed forward, snatching the candy away. “No!
You can’t have this!”
Tears filled her eyes. “I just wanted a little bit…”
You don’t get to decide!”
She burst into tears — loud, shaking sobs. “You’re so mean!”
My chest tightened. My hands trembled.
Carol appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, phone in hand. “All that over a piece of chocolate?” she said. I glared at her.
“You gave this to her?!”
“She asked nicely,” Carol replied. “I didn’t think—”
“She’s allergic to peanuts!” I yelled, waving the wrapper. “There’s peanut butter in this!
Carol’s expression dropped into blankness. “Oh my god,” I breathed. I turned to Lily.
“How much did you eat, baby? Tell me now.”Continue reading…
