My stomach growled painfully all day. By the time I got home at seven, I was light-headed with hunger.
I threw together a quick mushroom pasta with cream sauce — my dad’s recipe. The savory aroma filled the kitchen as I stirred, my mouth watering.
“Just five minutes,” I muttered, setting the steaming bowl on the counter and hurrying to the bathroom with my phone.
When I returned less than 10 minutes later, I stopped dead in my tracks. Gwen sat at the counter, my fork in her hand, already three-quarters through my dinner.
“GWEN? What are you doing?”
She didn’t even look guilty.
“I was hungry.”
“I haven’t eaten ALL DAY! That was MY dinner!”
Her face crumpled into immediate tears. “I’m pregnant!
I needed to eat!”
You’re a grown-ass woman, not a raccoon.”
Tyler and Mom rushed in, drawn by the commotion.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tyler roared, putting his arm around his sobbing wife.
“She ate my dinner! I’m starving! I worked all day and—”
“Oh, boo-hoo!” he mocked.
“Gwen is carrying your niece or nephew. She needs proper nutrition!”
“So do I!” I cried, tears of frustration welling in my eyes.
How dare you scream at a pregnant woman over food? Your father would be ashamed of you!”
That was a knife to my heart. “Don’t you dare bring Dad into this.”
“Get out!” Tyler yelled, pointing to the door.
“Get out of this house and don’t come back until you can apologize!”
I stared at him in disbelief. “This is MY house! Dad left it to ME!”
“God, you’re such a broken record,” Gwen sniffled.
“Always ‘my house, my house.’ Some people have real problems, Katie.”
“Yeah,” Mom added coldly. “This is our house, too. Like where your brother and his pregnant wife are supposed to live when you’re being such a selfish witch.
Get out and let us live in peace!”Continue reading…
