Daniel’s mother, Carol, never insulted me directly. But she also never asked Ellie about school or commented on the drawings she sent at Christmas. She addressed cards “To my Daniel and Tina,” even after the adoption papers were signed.
And once, after a family dinner, she raised her eyebrow and looked at my perfectly made lasagna. “You must’ve had to learn quickly, raising a child on your own,” she said. Daniel heard it too, and when I brought it up, he held me tightly.
“She’s just… set in her ways. Give it time,” he said.
I did. Until the day she kicked my daughter out of a child’s birthday party. It was a sunny Saturday, the kind of day that made everything feel lighter.
My brother-in-law, Mark, was throwing a Pokémon-themed party for his son, Jason, who had just turned seven. Ellie was beside herself with excitement. All week, she kept asking what Jason might like best.
“Do you think he still loves Pokémon?” she asked one evening, twirling the hem of her pajama top. I told her yes, absolutely, and we looked through some gift ideas together online. When she saw the limited edition Pokémon card set, her eyes went wide.
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