My son said dinner was canceled, but when I got to the restaurant…

Look, I really have to go, I’ll talk to you later, and then the short beeps again. I stare at the phone, feeling the anxiety growing inside. They’re hiding something.

Both of them. Thursday morning I go to the local supermarket. I don’t so much need to get groceries as to stretch my legs and clear my head.

In the vegetable section I run into Doris Simmons, an old acquaintance who works in the same flower store as Thelma. Edith, it’s been a long time, she exclaims, hugging me. How’s your health? Not bad for my age, I smile.

Are you still working with Thelma? Of course I am. Only tomorrow is my day off. Thelma’s taking the evening off, a family celebration I hear.

30 years is a big date. I nod, trying to hide my confusion. So dinner wasn’t cancelled, so Wesley lied to me, but why? When I get home I sit in my chair for a long time, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Maybe they’re springing a surprise on me. But then why the lies about Cora being sick? And why was Thelma acting so strangely? The phone rings again, but it’s not Wesley or Thelma. It’s Reed.

Grandma, I forgot to ask, have you seen my blue notebook? I think I left it at your place last time. Let me see. I go into the living room where Reed usually sits.

I don’t see it. Maybe it’s in the kitchen. While I’m looking, Reed keeps talking.

If you find it, can you give it to Dad tomorrow? He’ll pick you up, right? I freeze with the phone to my ear. Pick me up? Well, yeah, for dinner at Willow Creek. I can stop by if you want, but I have classes until 6, I’m afraid I’ll be late for the start.

I’m gripping the phone tighter. Reed, honey, I think you’re confused. Wesley told me dinner was cancelled, Cora’s sick.

Reed is silent now, for a long time, too long. Reed? I’m calling, are you there? Grandma, I, uh, I don’t understand. Dad called me an hour ago asking if I could be at the restaurant by 7 o’clock.

Nobody cancelled anything. I’m slowly sinking into the couch, so that’s how it is. I was just decided not to be invited.

My own son lied to me so I wouldn’t come to the family reunion. Grandma, are you okay? Reed’s voice sounds concerned. Yes, honey, I’m fine.

I try to keep my voice normal. I must have misunderstood something. You know, at my age, you get confused sometimes.

I’m sure it’s some kind of misunderstanding. Do you want me to call my dad and find out? No, I answer hastily. There’s no need.

I’ll talk to him myself, don’t worry. After the conversation, I sit in silence for a long time, looking at the picture of us all together, me, George, the kids, happy, smiling. When did it all go wrong? When did I become a burden to them, better left at home than taken to a family party? Resentment and bitterness rise up inside, but I force myself to breathe deeply.

Now is not the time for tears. Now is the time to think. If my kids don’t want me at the family reunion, then I’ve become a stranger to them.

And I need to figure out why. I walk over to the closet where I keep old letters and documents. Among them are George’s will, the insurance policy, the deeds to the house.

Wesley has hinted several times that I should sign the house over to him. For your own safety, mom. Thelma suggested I sell it and move into a nursing home.

They’ll take better care of you than we can. I always refused, sensing that there was something else behind those suggestions. Now I think I’m beginning to realize what it is.

In the evening, the phone rings. This time it’s Cora, my sister-in-law. Her voice sounds cheerful and energetic, for someone with a high fever and bed rest.

Edith, honey, how are you? Wesley said he called you about Friday. Yes, he said you were sick and dinner was canceled, I answer in a steady voice. That’s right, Cora confirms too hastily.

It’s a terrible virus just knocked me off my feet. The doctor prescribed bed rest for at least a week. I hope you feel better soon, I say.

Say hello to the others. The others? I can hear the tension in her voice. Yeah.

Thelma, read. They’re upset about the canceled holiday, aren’t they? Oh yes, of course. They’re all very upset.

But it can’t be helped. Health is more important. Well Edith, I have to take my medication, feel better.

I hang up the phone and look out of the window at the darkening sky. Well now I have confirmation. They’re planning dinner without me.

They haven’t even bothered to come up with a plausible lie. I pull out of my closet the dark blue dress I haven’t worn since George’s funeral. I try it on in front of the mirror, it still fits well, even though I’ve lost weight over the years.

If my children think they can just cut me out of their lives, they’re sorely mistaken. Edith Thornberry hasn’t said her last word yet. And tomorrow night promises to be interesting.

Very interesting. I’ve been up all night. Not because of the pain in my joints although that was coming on.

Not because of the insomnia that often afflicts people my age. I was awake because the thoughts of the day ahead kept me awake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of my children gathered around the holiday table without me.

Laughing, raising their glasses, telling each other how lucky they were to be rid of their old mother for the evening. Friday morning was overcast. Heavy clouds hung over Blue Springs, as if reflecting my mood.

I made tea, but it went cold, untouched. I didn’t feel like eating. Something inside me seemed to be frozen, waiting for a decision I hadn’t made yet.

What would I do tonight, would I stay home like my children had planned or… My gaze fell on George’s picture on the mantelpiece. He was looking at me with a slight smile, tilting his head slightly to the side, a gesture that always meant he had something important to say. What would you do, George? I mentally asked him…