The front door opened before I could even knock twice.
My sister-in-law, Chloe, smiled without warmth.
She wore diamond earrings I had never seen before and a cream-colored designer sweater that probably cost more than my first month’s salary after law school.
“Elena.”
She didn’t hug me.
She didn’t even pretend to be happy.
“You should’ve called before driving all this way.”
“I wanted to surprise Mom.”
“She’s elderly now.”
Her smile tightened.
“Surprises confuse her.”
“I think she’ll survive seeing her daughter.”
For a fraction of a second, irritation flashed across Chloe’s face before disappearing behind practiced politeness.
“Come in.”
The house was spotless.
Not comfortable.
Not lived in.
Spotless.
Every magazine aligned perfectly.
Every chair pushed in exactly the same distance.
Even the throw pillows looked untouched.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Resting.”
Chloe glanced toward the hallway.
“She’s been difficult lately.”
“Difficult?”
“You know how older people become.”
She sighed dramatically.
“They imagine things. Forget conversations. Get emotional.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I walked farther into the living room.
That’s when I saw her.
She was standing halfway down the hallway, one fragile hand resting against the wall for support.
For a second I didn’t recognize my own mother.
Three months earlier, we’d celebrated Christmas together.
She had laughed while making gingerbread cookies with my children.
She’d danced in the kitchen to Frank Sinatra.
She’d beaten everyone at Scrabble.
Now…
She looked twenty years older.
Her cheeks had sunk inward.
Her silver hair had become thin.
