Chapter 3 - The Flying Monkeys
By noon, the inevitable social media campaign had begun.
Chloe posted a vague, melodramatic status on Facebook.
"It's so heartbreaking when family members reveal their true, toxic colors on what is supposed to be a milestone celebration."
"Dad is devastated, but we won't let one selfish person ruin our bond."
She ended it with a broken heart emoji, naturally.
My phone started buzzing with messages from distant cousins who had no idea what actually went down.
"Why would you do that to your dad?" one cousin asked.
"You need to apologize to Chloe, she's been crying all morning," another wrote.
This was the part where I usually caved.
This was the part where the guilt became too heavy, and I would apologize just to stop the noise.
But I looked over at the kitchen counter where the terracotta planter sat.
I remembered Leo's shaking hands.
I remembered Emma's fingernails digging into my palm.
I didn't feel guilt anymore; I felt armor forming over my heart.
The doorbell rang at exactly 2:00 PM.
I looked through the peephole and saw Aunt Susan standing on the porch holding a bakery box.
Tom stood up from the couch, ready to turn her away, but I shook my head.
Aunt Susan was the only one in the room last night who hadn't looked at my kids with disgust.
I opened the door, and she practically collapsed into my arms with a sigh.
"I brought croissants and the unvarnished truth," she said, stepping into the foyer.
We sat at the dining table, and Susan laid out exactly what happened after I left.
"Chloe threw an absolute tantrum when the waiter brought the check to her," Susan explained.
"She screamed that it was your party, your responsibility, and that she didn't bring her credit cards."
"Your father tried to put it on his card, but it was declined for insufficient funds."
"That's when the manager walked in, and Uncle Mark finally pulled out his wallet to avoid a public scene."
Susan took a bite of her pastry and looked at me with sad, tired eyes.
"Mark told your father he has until Monday to pay him back, or he's taking him to small claims court."
I sat back in my chair, absorbing the absolute chaos they had created for themselves.
"And Dad is blaming me?" I asked quietly.
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"Of course he is, honey," Susan said softly.
"Because if he blames you, he doesn't have to face the fact that he raised a monster like Chloe."
