The minute after I blew out the candles on my cake, I smiled. It wasn’t the sweet, grandmotherly smile my family was used to. It was sharp.
“You are absolutely right, Brenda,” I said, my voice steady and loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.
My daughter-in-law looked confused. She expected me to cry or argue. She didn’t expect me to agree.
“I am too old,” I continued, turning to look at my son, Mark. “Brenda says I need to ‘let go,’ and she has opened my eyes. I’m too old to be a free, full-time nanny while she is ‘working late’ at the tennis club. I’m too old to scrub bottles and change diapers while she gets her bi-weekly manicures and three-hour brunches.”
The table went dead silent. Mark dropped his fork. “Mom, what are you talking about? Brenda told me she was taking extra shifts at the office. That’s why you watch Leo so much.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out a small stack of paper. “I thought you might say that. Here are the date-stamped photos my neighbor took of Brenda’s car parked at the luxury spa downtown every Tuesday and Thursday for the last six months. And here is the printout from her public Instagram—which she blocked you on, Mark, but forgot to block me on—showing her drinking mimosas with her friends while I was home rocking your son to sleep.”
Brenda’s face turned a shade of pale usually reserved for ghosts. She tried to grab the papers, but Mark snatched them first.
“You told me my mother was begging to see Leo,” Mark whispered, his face turning red as he scrolled through the photos I had printed. “You told me she was lonely. Meanwhile, you were using her so you could live like a single woman?”
“I was doing it for us! For my mental health!” Brenda stammered, looking around the restaurant for sympathy that wasn’t there.
“Well,” I interrupted, taking a sip of my iced tea. “For the sake of my mental health, and since I am so frail and old, I am officially retiring. Effective immediately.”
I pulled one last envelope from my bag.
“I was saving this money to help you two with a down payment on a bigger house,” I said, holding up a travel brochure. “But since I need to ‘let go,’ I decided to let go of my savings, too. I’ve booked a three-month cruise around the world. It leaves tomorrow morning. I suggest you figure out childcare quickly, Brenda. I hear daycares have quite a waiting list.”
I stood up, kissed my grandson on the head, and walked out of that restaurant without looking back.
That was ten years ago. I’m 80 now. Mark eventually divorced Brenda after finding out the lies went much deeper than just manicures. He has custody of Leo, and they visit me every Sunday. I still babysit sometimes—but only when I want to, and never when there’s a cruise ship waiting for me at the dock.
She messed with the wrong grandma.
