“Mrs. Jensen?” Ethan’s voice bled through the receiver, choked with theatrical, wet sobs. “I destroyed everything. Rebecca is a nightmare. I made a colossal mistake. Please, talk to Clara for me. She’s my entire world.”
My mother’s expression transitioned from confusion to a mask of absolute, arctic disgust. I gently extracted the phone from her grip and tapped the speaker icon.
“You should have evaluated her value to your world before you financed your adultery with her grocery budget, Ethan,” my mother stated, her voice as hard as diamond. She reached over and tapped the red ‘End Call’ button.
“He’s running out of oxygen,” she noted calmly, handing me a bowl of soup.
Not an hour later, my own phone rang.
“Is this Clara?” The voice was strained, brittle, teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. “This is Sarah. Rebecca’s mother.”
I set my spoon down. “I’m listening.”
“Look, Ethan is… he’s in a bad place,” Sarah stammered, attempting to adopt a conspiratorial, woman-to-woman tone. “Young men make impulsive errors. He has no money. They’re fighting constantly. Could you… could you perhaps let him move back into the house? Just temporarily? Until the dust settles?”
The audacity was so magnificent it bordered on the supernatural.
“Let me ensure I comprehend this,” I replied, my voice dangerously soft. “You are requesting that I harbor the man who defrauded me, slandered me globally, and married your daughter, simply because your daughter has suddenly realized she married a liability?”
“Marriage requires grace!” she snapped defensively.
“Marriage requires respect,” I countered. “Enjoy your new son-in-law.” I severed the connection.
