PART 2
Grandpa’s words hung over the dining room like a storm cloud.
My little nephews, Owen and Miles, were in the living room watching cartoons, too young to understand that every adult at the table had just walked into a fight years in the making. The television laughed loudly from the next room, making the silence around us feel even worse.
Dad stood up. “I’m not doing this at Thanksgiving.”
Grandpa looked at him. “You’ve been doing this for years. Thanksgiving didn’t create it.”
Mom wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Ethan, tell your grandfather we never mistreated you.”
I looked at her. That was the worst part. She didn’t ask if they had mistreated me. She asked me to deny it.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said.
Claire crossed her arms. “Maybe start with the fact that you’ve had a roof over your head.”
“So have you.”
“I have children.”
“You keep saying that like it means I owe you my life.”
Dad’s voice cut through the room. “Enough, Ethan.”
Grandpa turned sharply. “Don’t you silence him.”
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