So when he came back wearing a new shirt, dark sunglasses, and the bossy voice Chloe had been feeding him, I already knew who he had become.
“Mom, we’re going away to the Bahamas for a few days.”
“That’s nice, son.”
“You’re going to watch the pets.”
Chloe came in behind him with three cages bumping against her legs.
Two parakeets screamed from one cage.
A white rabbit trembled in another.
The cat, trapped inside an old carrier, pressed itself flat against the back like even it knew it had been delivered to the wrong house.
She set them right beside Ernest’s memorial photo.
No flowers.
No hug.
No “How are you holding up?”
Just cages, pet food, and instructions.
“Change the water for the parakeets twice a day,” Chloe said, still staring at her phone.
“Don’t give the rabbit lettuce. The cat gets stressed, so don’t let him out. And make sure to clean up properly because it smells awful afterward.”
I looked at her.
“Chloe, I just buried my husband.”
She sighed like I had interrupted her vacation.
“Oh, Mrs. Theresa, everyone has problems.”
Austin did not blush.
He did not correct her.
He only shrugged and said, “Besides, that’s why you’re here, Mom. You’ll get bored all by yourself.”
The parakeets kept screeching.
The candle flame beside Ernest’s picture bent and straightened.
For the first time in my life, I did not feel anger rise.
I felt calm slide into place.
I looked at the cages.
