That night, when David called to tell me about the trip, I already knew exactly what I was going to do. I let them leave. I let them believe they had won. That old Margaret would obediently stay home, taking care of the garden like just another employee.
But while they were packing their bags, I was packing mine, too. Not to go anywhere, but to stay. to plant my roots deeper than ever.
And when the bank phone rang the next day, I was ready. The storm was just beginning. But for the first time in a long time, I had the umbrella.
David’s call woke me up on the second day. His voice sounded different, higher pitched with that tone he used as a child when he knew he’d done something wrong.
“Mom, there’s a problem. The cards aren’t working. None of them.”
I sat up in bed slowly, feeling the morning sun stream through the window overlooking the yard. The chickens were already clucking, asking for their food. Life was going on as normal, while theirs was falling apart 200 m away.
“What kind of problem, David?”
“We can’t pay for anything. Not the hotel, not the food, not the gas. It’s like all the accounts are frozen.” I heard Amber screaming in the background. Her voice was distorted over the phone, but I managed to make out a few words. Useless. Your mother, fix this.
“Mom, I need you to go to the bank right now. It must be a system error.”
A system error. As if I were that naive.
“It’s not an error, David.”
