Chapter 9 - The Family Summit
By the following week, the silence from my parents' house had turned into an aggressive campaign of proxy warfare. Aunt Rey called twice more; Uncle Vernon sent another text about "honoring thy mother." I blocked both numbers without a second thought.
Then, on a Tuesday evening, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. I almost declined it, but something prompted me to swipe answer.
"Karen?" It was my father's voice, sounding breathless and strained.
"Dad? What's wrong?"
"Your mother... she invited the whole extended family over for Sunday dinner. She told everyone you've apologized and that we're all reuniting. She's expecting you to walk through that door."
I gripped the phone tightly. "Dad, nobody talked to me about any reunion. I haven't apologized for anything."
"I know," he sighed heavily. "I tried to tell her, but she's convinced if she puts you on the spot in front of thirty people, you'll fall in line like you always do. She thinks she can force your hand."
A cold clarity washed over me. My mother was doubling down, orchestrating a public spectacle to humiliate me into submission and restore her fragile illusion of absolute control.
"Thank you for telling me, Dad," I said evenly.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, a rare hint of panic in his voice.
"I'm going to Sunday dinner," I said. "Along with the kids."
There was a long pause on the other end. "Karen, are you sure? It's going to be a firing squad."
"Let them shoot," I replied.
When I hung up, I turned to find Marlo standing in the doorway, listening. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
May you like
"Sunday dinner?" she asked.
I nodded. "Your grandmother wants a public audience. We're going to give her one."
