They Gave Me a Burial Shroud for My Birthday

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Celeste couldn't hold back after hearing me say that, and she shot me a nasty look.

"Mom, stop playing the saint."

"The truth is, Curtis and I both know you're planning to leave everything to your daughter!"

She paused there, and when I said nothing, she went on.

"How much can your son and I really eat or spend? The property is the real money, and giving all of it to your daughter—is that fair to us?"

Once Celeste laid it out, Walter said, "The money is ours, and how we divide it is our business. If you two think it's unfair, then go earn your own, or grit your teeth and live with it!"

Celeste rolled her eyes at him.

"Dad, so you're dead set on favoring your daughter and abandoning your son, is that it?"

"Then don't blame us for a gift that brings bad luck! On Mom's birthday, that precious daughter of yours doesn't call or show up. But when you're sick someday, when you're gone, who else will you count on besides me and Curtis?"

Celeste's real feelings landed cold as hail. Walter couldn't stand up to it, shaking with rage.

I quickly gripped his hand.

I spoke slowly. "Your dad and I aren't counting on anyone!"

"You sure?"

"Of course."

"Your body's still strong now, so it's easy to talk pretty. But when you're sick and can't move, that tune will change!"

Watching the smug look on Celeste's face, I didn't answer.

It was my son's voice that came from the doorway instead.

"Right, easy to be tough when you can still eat and jump around."

"If you don't believe us, we can have it notarized!" I said.

Curtis came into the room and pulled Celeste into his arms.

The wronged look Celeste turned on me now carried more than a little resentment.

"Your son's here now. Take it out on him if you're upset."

Then she went to wipe her tears.

Curtis wiped his wife's tears away, aching for her. "Mom, you've got so many clothes—can you even wear them all? I just figured, a few bucks for something cheap, I never thought it'd be a burial shroud. Go through the motions and toss it out after, that's all. You don't need to hear thunder every time there's a breeze!"

My son thought Walter and I were making a mountain out of a molehill. Walter and I looked at each other and neither of us said a word.

"Mom, should I have the waiter start bringing the food?"

I lifted my eyes and gave my son a flat look.

He deliberately tried to change the subject. "Didn't Gabriella say she was too busy to come?"

I said with a sneer, "Good thing she's not. Less aggravation!"

Walter picked up on my sarcasm. "If we'd known you two would turn out like this, we'd have been better off raising a couple slabs of barbecue."

Curtis brushed it off. "Barbecue can't take care of you in your old age, can it? Nothing's more reliable than me and Gabriella."

The words nearly made me laugh. He kept trotting out the line about raising a son for your old age, meaning to needle Walter and me. Even buying a burial shroud for my birthday this time was his way of getting a jab in.

But I wasn't buying any of it.

Everything I gave to this family, I never gave expecting to collect a return from anyone.

Otherwise I wouldn't have raised him for thirty years.

I said, "Your dad and I don't need you worrying about our old age!"