Chapter 6 - The Long Drive Home
The birthday party didn't officially end, but it deflated like a punctured balloon. Within twenty minutes, uncles and aunts were gathering their purses, mumbling awkward goodbyes, and rushing to their cars with the hurried desperation of people fleeing a crime scene. No one looked me in the eye. Uncle Greg gave me an awkward, half-hearted nod as he walked past, and Kyle muttered a quiet “Sorry, Ed” before slipping into his Honda Civic.
Grandma Elaine, oblivious to the nuclear explosion that had just leveled her backyard, waved cheerfully from her rocking chair as Leah and I walked toward my car parked down the street.
“Come back soon, Eddie!” she called out, her voice sweet and gentle.
“I will, Grandma,” I called back, smiling genuinely. I didn't hold anything against her; she lived in a bubble of old age and love, shielded from the petty toxicity of her daughter and granddaughter.
As we slid into the front seats of my sedan, the cabin felt remarkably peaceful. The tension that had coiled in my chest for twenty-four months—a tight, prickly knot of injustice and pent-up frustration—was completely gone. In its place was a vast, open expanse of calm.
Leah let out a long breath, leaning her head back against the headrest and turning to look at me with a proud, crooked smile. “Well. That was certainly more entertaining than a standard family barbecue.”
I chuckled, turning the ignition and letting the engine purr to life. “You survived.”
“Survived? Eddie, I felt like I was watching an Oscar-winning legal drama unfold in real time,” she laughed, reaching across the center console to squeeze my knee. “You were incredible. Calm, collected, dead-to-rights factual. You completely dismantled an empire of lies with a manila folder.”
“It took a lot of late nights staring at venue records,” I admitted, pulling away from the curb and heading toward the highway back to Columbus.
“It was worth every second,” Leah said softly. “You got your life back, Ed. You got your truth back.”
The drive back up Route 3 was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the rolling Ohio fields. My phone buzzed in the cup holder—a string of frantic, weeping text messages from Paige demanding I delete the documents, followed by a defensive, rambling message from Aunt Diana trying to blame the whole thing on wedding stress.
Without breaking concentration, I swiped the notification center, selected both contacts, and hit *Block*.
Then I did the same for their numbers on my call log. Permanent silence. No more negotiations, no more fake peace, no more second-guessing.
About twenty minutes into the drive, my phone buzzed again. It was Mom.
I looked at the screen, hesitating for a second. Leah noticed and gently placed her hand over mine on the gear shift. “It’s up to you, Ed. You don't have to answer if you aren't ready.”
I glanced at the screen, saw the little typing bubble appear and disappear, and then made my choice. I silenced the ringer and dropped the phone back into the center console, facing down.
May you like
“She’ll have to learn to use her own voice without leaning on everyone else,” I said, merging onto the interstate toward home. “Starting today, I’m done carrying other people’s baggage.”
***
