Chapter 3: Family Tensions Boil Over

On the weekend, Brian and I drove out to his parents’ house in Maple Heights, the street lined with maple trees and mailboxes. Their brick colonial always had a swept porch and a flag fluttering in the breeze. Inside, the living room smelled of apple pie and lemon-scented Pledge.

At dinner, his mom squeezed my hand—her fingers warm, callused from gardening, bracelets clinking as she smiled. “Maddie, you’ve been married five years. Isn’t it time to think about a baby?”

Her voice was gentle but insistent. His dad fussed with the salt shaker but listened closely.

I studied my plate, rearranging green beans to hide the fact I hadn’t touched them. My heart beat faster, wishing for a topic change. The subject had never come up before—usually it was work, the weather, anything but grandchildren. But now the question had arrived, just like everyone always warned me it would.

I pictured framed photos on the mantle—weddings, birthdays, an empty spot waiting for the next generation.

Brian set his fork down, voice soft but firm. For a moment, he was the old Brian, the one who promised me everything. “Mom, I’ve already planned for this. Don’t worry.”

He gave me a tiny wink, like we were still in this together. I pasted on a smile and played along. Family dinners were rare—I didn’t want to ruin it. "We’re working on it," I said, dodging details. His mom squeezed my hand, satisfied for now.

Halfway through the meal, Brian’s phone buzzed, rattling the table. Each vibration chipped away at the illusion of a happy family dinner. He kept glancing at his phone, grinning at something on the screen—like a kid texting his crush under the table. The old sparkle in his eyes was back, but it wasn’t for me.

His mom coughed lightly and tried to joke, “It’s rare for you to visit, but you’re glued to your phone. Can’t you spend time with us?” Her voice was light, but her eyes were tight with disappointment.

Brian didn’t even look up, thumb flying. His dad shot him a glare over his glasses.

The air turned heavy, thick with unspoken words. I forced a smile, scooped some ribs into his mom’s bowl, and offered to help clear plates. "You always say I don’t eat enough," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me slice the pie, too."

“He’s always like this,” I said. “Once he’s busy, he can’t hear anything. I’m used to it. Mom, don’t mind him. The company’s really got a lot going on.”

His mom smiled awkwardly, patting my hand, but the disappointment lingered.

Then Brian suddenly stood, the chair scraping loud. I looked up, startled, fork paused in midair. He looked at me apologetically, eyes flicking between me and his mom.

“Maddie, something urgent came up at work. I have to go. You stay and eat with Mom and Dad.” Already pulling on his jacket, he checked his phone again. Before I could speak, he was at the door.

His dad slammed his fork down. “How urgent can it be? Can’t you spare half an hour?”

Brian paused at the door, hand on the knob. “Dad, I’ll come see you another day. Maddie’s here, isn’t she? I really have to go now.”

He left, door slamming, china rattling. His mother sighed, heavy with resignation. His dad picked at his napkin, jaw clenched. Only the grandfather clock ticked in the silence.

I forced a smile: “Dad, Mom, don’t be mad. Today’s food is all my favorite. I’ll eat until I’m stuffed before I go home.” I lifted my fork and dug in, determined to play my part, even if the taste was lost on me.