My father reached for my carry-on.
“Come on. Security will take forever.”
I pulled it away.
“I’m staying with Grandma.”
His face changed immediately.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then book her a seat.”
“There aren’t any left.”
The airline clerk quietly said, “There are eleven available seats on the flight.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
Aunt Monica stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“Your grandmother is tired. Take her home and meet us in Rome tomorrow.”
But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I picked up Grandma’s green suitcase and led her away.
Behind us, nobody called her name.
During the drive home, Grandma stared through the window.
She didn’t ask why her own children had done it.
She didn’t ask for the money back.
She only said, “I should have known kindness that sudden was being purchased with something.”
For three weeks, we lived quietly.
