Divorced at 35: My Two Million Payback

03

Austin wasn't home, and they didn't ask why.

My mother pulled me down to sit beside her and held my hand. "You've lost weight."

I gripped her hand back, my thumb brushing over the scar in the web of hers.

When I was little I knocked over a brazier playing around, and she threw out her hand to shield me. That patch of skin had stayed sunken ever since.

That evening she was in the kitchen for three hours, and turned out a full table of food.

But the dishes had barely reached the table when the lock clicked.

Austin walked in with Linda and her parents.

He saw my mother and father and didn't so much as greet them.

"Didn't I book you a room at a motel? Why are you still here? Linda's family's air conditioning broke today, they're staying with us. There's no space for you here, is there?"

I held my chopsticks, my knuckles going white.

"Austin, this is my home. Where do you get off telling my parents to go stay somewhere else?"

Linda stoked the fire from the side.

"Look at this spread tonight. Austin, honey, you're the one who works to keep this house going. How come nobody called you to eat?"

Austin seized the opening at once. "Isabella, it's not your place to run this house. I pay the rent on it, and I have every right to bring anyone I want home."

Zoe Donaldson put on her fake concern. "If it's this much trouble for Austin, we'll just leave, then."

That only made Austin angrier. "Isabella, is this how you treat your elders? Where are your manners?"

He slapped a box down on the table as he spoke.

"Linda's mom and dad heard your parents were here, so they even brought a gift. Go on, take a look for yourself."

My mother saw it and wiped her hands on her apron, over and over. "We haven't started eating yet. Why don't we all sit down together?"

Zoe sat down at once.

I grabbed the box and tore it open.

"Austin, this is that expired fish oil that was supposed to be thrown out. This is your gift?"

The manufacture date was three years ago.

The print was tiny, but I read it clear as day.

A while back my parents said their legs hurt going up stairs, and the doctor recommended fish oil.

Austin traveled abroad for work a lot, so I asked him to bring some back. Once, twice, three times.

He finally brought back a box, and it was expired.

I never imagined he'd repackage the expired fish oil and pass it off as a gift from Linda's parents.

I met Austin at thirty-five.

Because it came to us so late, the whole family treasured it all the more.

My mother was always saying, "Austin's young, he doesn't know better. Be patient with him. You have to make him feel how lucky he is to be holding two gold bars."

Everyone around me said an older single woman ends up either alone or a stepmother. What had I done to deserve a man like Austin?

I believed it.

We all believed it.

My mother tugged Austin and Linda toward the table. "Austin, try this. I braised these ribs today."

He nudged them with his chopsticks and frowned. "Too greasy."

My mother's hand stopped in midair.

"Then... then have some soup. The chicken soup isn't greasy."

Austin took a spoonful. "A little heavy on the salt."

"Oh, oh, that's my hand being too heavy, I'll use less next time..." My mother hurried to take it away. "Then have some greens, I made the greens light."

Austin hesitated three seconds, then picked up a small piece of greens and put it in his mouth.

"Not bad," he said.

My mother's eyes lit up for a second.

He set down his chopsticks and never picked them up again.

Her hand was still holding the soup bowl, frozen in the act of offering it, as though someone had hit pause on her.

Linda picked up a rib, bit into it, and narrowed her eyes.

"Auntie, you really can cook. This is more authentic than that private kitchen place Austin took us to last night."

My parents had been here three days, and Austin hadn't sat down for a single meal with them.

But last night he'd taken Linda's whole family out to a private kitchen dinner.

"Austin."

I heard my own voice shaking. "My mother made your favorite dishes. I called you three times and you didn't pick up. And now you're picking my mother's cooking apart, piece by piece. Isn't that going too far?"

"I'm already exhausted, and then you people drag me to the table to put on a show. I went along with it. What more do you want?"

"A show?"

My eyes snapped up. "It's because my whole family kept giving in and backing down that you've let it go to your head, isn't it?"

"Don't blow this out of proportion. We have guests."

Austin gave a cold snort.