“You stopped treating me like family a long time ago. You turned me into a service, into something useful but not valuable.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered.
“No?” I held her gaze. “When was my last birthday, Amanda?”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“August 15th, almost five months ago. You didn’t call, you didn’t come. You didn’t even send a message until three days later. And you, Robert—nothing at all.”
Robert looked away.
“We’ve been busy,” he muttered.
“You’re always busy—except when you need me for something.”
“This is an exaggeration,” Amanda said. “Yes, we’ve been busy. But we’ve always loved you.”
“Love without actions is just noise. You loved me when it was convenient. You looked for me when you needed something. But when I needed something—when I was sick, when I was alone—you were never there.”
Amanda wiped away the tears that were starting to fall. But this time, I didn’t feel the urge to comfort her. These were tears she needed to cry.
“So what now?” Robert asked. “You’re just cutting us out of your life?”
“I’m not cutting you out. I’m setting boundaries. I’m no longer going to be available every time you need me. I’m no longer going to pay for things you should be paying for. I’m no longer going to watch your children every time you want to get away. I have my own life and it’s time for me to live it.”
“But you’re the grandma,” Amanda insisted.
