I wiped my tears and said goodbye to Aunt Agatha.

Back at the house, I tied my apron on again and picked up the rolling pin.

I walked into the kitchen without a word and started cooking.

Mrs. Abbott sat in the main room, nodding with satisfaction.

"See? I told you. Your brother-in-law is a man who handles things. He's not going to throw a fit over a little demolition money."

The younger siblings stood off to the side, quietly breathing sighs of relief.

At dinner, Adeline held a bowl and spooned food into Mrs. Abbott's mouth.

Mrs. Abbott watched her, her tone casual, as if she were commenting on the weather.

"Adeline, the demolition money came through. Take two hundred thousand and buy me a place in town."

"Somewhere close to the hospital, preferably. Makes it easier for your brother-in-law to look after me."

Adeline froze for a moment. She glanced at me, then lowered her head. "Okay."

Mrs. Abbott swallowed a mouthful of rice and kept going.

"And from now on, you'll give me ten thousand dollars a month."

"The doctor said if I keep up with physical therapy, I might be able to walk again."

Adeline's brow creased.

She looked across the table at Bertram and the youngest brother, both shoveling food into their mouths, and asked in a low voice:

"How long does the therapy take?"

"I've been paralyzed for six years. Could be six or seven more years at least, maybe ten before there's any real improvement."

Adeline set her bowl and chopsticks down hard.

"Mom, forget the demolition money. Keep it yourself."

Mrs. Abbott glared at her.

"What's that supposed to mean? You think your own mother is too much trouble?"

Adeline's face flushed crimson. She couldn't get a single word out.

I had no appetite at all. I set down my chopsticks, my voice calm.

"Mom, the demolition money came through. Have them hire you a home care nurse."

"I'm leaving. I can't take care of you anymore."

Mrs. Abbott went rigid.

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

"Into the city. To find work."

"What the hell has gotten into you, Tom!"

Mrs. Abbott's voice shot up, shrill and panicked.

"If you leave, what happens to me?"

Her eyes swept the room.

"They got their demolition money. They won't just abandon you."

At that, Bertram and the youngest brother finally looked up, staring at me in stunned disbelief.

Mrs. Abbott's eyes went red, her voice cracking into a whimper.

"Over a little demolition money, you're going to throw a tantrum and abandon me?"

"Have you forgotten how my Florence died? If she were still alive, would I need you to take care of me?"

I looked at her.

"Mom, when Florence had that difficult labor, it was you who—"

I clenched my jaw and swallowed the words pressing against my chest.

"Mom, I've looked after you for twenty-five years. Looked after this family for twenty-five years."

"I've done my part. I'm tired. I just can't do it anymore."

Before she could respond, I stood up and walked into the bedroom to pack.

When I came out, they were all standing by the door.

Staring at me like I was a criminal.

Bertram rushed forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

"You can't leave!"

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Why can't I?"

His gaze darted away. He turned his face to the side.

"You have to take care of Mom. She—"

I cut him off.

"She's my mother-in-law. She's your mother."

"I've taken care of her for twenty-five years. Isn't it your turn?"

Bertram's brow knotted tight.

"I've got a wife and kids to feed. How am I supposed to take care of Mom?"

"Then bring her home. Let your wife and kids help."

"Are you out of your mind? Mom can't even take care of herself. Bringing her to my place would turn the whole house upside down!"

I laughed.

"Mom's been paralyzed for six years. I've waited on her for six years. Since your oldest sister passed, I've taken care of your mother for twenty-five years."

"I'm not her only family. She has four children, doesn't she?"

"But Florence died giving birth to your kid. Taking care of Mom is the least you should do!"

"Besides! Mom's already used to you taking care of her..."

Something seized in my chest. My breath caught.

"Bertram! I'm your older sister's husband, but I'm only two years older than you!"

"I felt guilty about what happened to your sister, so I held this family together for twenty-five years. I've done more than my share!"

"You're just mad Mom didn't give you any money, so you're picking a fight on purpose!"

"Mom's the one who split the money. You can't just throw a tantrum over it and dump her on us!"

I turned and glanced at Mrs. Abbott. Her face had gone ashen.

"Bertram, let me ask you one question."

"What?"

"Mom's been bedridden for seven years now. You'd already been married seven years before that. In all that time, did you ever give her a single dollar? Did you ever take care of her for even one day?"

He went quiet.

I said, "No. You never gave her a cent. And ever since she became bedridden, your wife and kids haven't visited once."

"In seven years, I can count on one hand the number of times you even came to see her. And every time, all you brought was a bunch of bananas."

"You just got four hundred thousand dollars. You could hire a proper home care nurse for her instead of treating it like a given that I'll handle everything."

Bertram's lips moved, but nothing came out.

Mrs. Abbott pounded the armrest of the couch, her voice thick with tears. "Let him go! Let him go!"

"I want to see if he's really heartless enough to let this old woman die alone in this house!"

I had two notebooks in my bag. I pulled one out and handed it to Bertram.

"Everything you need to know about taking care of Mom. I wrote it all down."

I turned to Mrs. Abbott. "Mom, it's not that I don't want to look after you. I'm just tired. I need a rest too."

I grabbed my suitcase and left.

I rented a small studio in the city. Five hundred a month.

On the third day, Lucius called. His tone was sharp.

"Tom, you upset Mom so bad she's in the hospital. She's in the ICU right now. Get back here!"