But adulthood had thinned him out in ways she had watched helplessly. He worked too much and apologized too quickly and somewhere along the way had married a woman who mistook access for ownership and proximity for entitlement. Eleanor had not always disliked Megan. In the early years there had been a surface warmth that she had extended trust to, because Eleanor believed in the benefit of the doubt and in the possibility that people became more generous as they felt more secure. She had thought Megan’s sharpness was nervousness. She had attributed the competitiveness to youth.
She had been wrong about that, and she had recognized it slowly, the way you recognize a slow leak: one small wrong thing, then another, and then one day you understand that the accumulation has been going on far longer than the individual incidents suggested.
The turning point
The tone had started with comments about the house. Never openly hostile at first. Just suggestive, with that particular brightness that people use when they want to say something aggressive while maintaining the option of calling it a joke. Wasteful was the word Megan had used once, standing in this very kitchen, referring to the fact that Eleanor lived alone in a three-bedroom property.
Leave a Comment