Carla continued.

“I’m going to be completely honest.”

“I wish you would.”

“We’re trying to create a certain family environment.”

Something inside me went still.

“What environment?”

“More intentional. More polished. More selective.”

“I am your child’s grandmother.”

“Nobody denies that.”

“But I don’t fit.”

She sighed.

“Margarita, sometimes you serve yourself too much food.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard.

“What?”

“My parents are extremely particular about manners. I don’t want an awkward moment.”

I looked at her.

Then Hugo.

He stared at the floor.

Suddenly, everything became simple.

Carla knew her comments hurt.

This wasn’t ignorance.

It was hierarchy.

She wanted me to know where she believed I belonged.

I stood.

Carla relaxed.

“I’m glad you’re being reasonable.”

I picked up my handbag.

“I understand perfectly.”

Hugo looked up.

“Mom.”

“I understand that my clothes embarrass you. My grocery shopping embarrasses you. My gifts don’t cost enough. My stories aren’t interesting enough for Carla’s parents. Apparently I also require supervision near mashed potatoes.”

“Margarita, that isn’t—”

I raised a hand.

“And I understand that my own son would rather suggest I watch television alone than tell his wife to treat his mother with respect.”

“Mom.”

A sound came from the hallway.

Gabriel stood partly behind his bedroom door, eyes wet.

“You said Grandma had plans.”

Nobody answered.

Carla turned.

“Gabriel, go back inside.”

“You said she didn’t want to come.”

His voice broke.

Hugo stood.

“Buddy—”

“That’s enough,” Carla said.

I walked toward Gabriel.

He reached me first.