She made a face. “Oh, Eleanor, with those ladies again. I always see you so tired after those meetings. They’re all getting so old, don’t you think? All that talk of aches and pains. It depresses you.”
“My friends don’t depress me,” I said.
“I’m not saying it’s their fault,” Jessica replied, voice sweet as syrup. “But at your age, fatigue is dangerous. What if you get dizzy on the way? What if something happens to you?”
Every word was an invisible chain.
“I’m fine, Jessica.”
“I know, I know,” she cooed, “but Michael worries so much. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll keep you company. We can watch a movie.”
I looked at my purse, my sweater, the keys in my hand, and for the first time in my life I felt afraid—afraid to leave my own house. Afraid of what might happen if I disobeyed her.
I picked up the phone and called Carol. “Carol, I won’t be able to make it today. I’m feeling a little tired.”
My friend’s concerned voice on the other end broke my heart.
“Eleanor, are you okay? You haven’t come in two months.”
Two months?
Had I been letting my life slip away for that long?
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just… need to rest.”
When I hung up, Jessica was smiling. “What a good decision, Eleanor. You’ll see. You’ll feel better here. Nice and quiet. Resting.”
I sat on the sofa in my own living room, feeling the walls close in on me.
And the worst part was that no one—absolutely no one—seemed to see what was happening.
But the universe was preparing something that neither of us expected.
Three weeks later, Jessica entered my room with a smile that should have alerted me. But I was so tired, so defeated, I could no longer recognize danger signs.
“Eleanor,” she sang, “I have a surprise for you.”
I looked up from the book I was pretending to read. In reality, I had been staring at the same page for twenty minutes without processing a single word.
“What surprise?” I asked.
“We’re going to throw you a birthday party.”
My birthday was in four days. Sixty-eight years old. Since Arthur died, I hadn’t celebrated. I had no desire to. Birthdays are for celebrating with the person who knows every one of your years—and that person was gone.
“I don’t want a party,” I said.
“Oh, Eleanor,” Jessica replied, “don’t be a sour puss. You’ll see. You’re going to love it. I’ll invite the neighbors, the family, your friends. It will be beautiful.”
Something in her tone unsettled me, but I didn’t have the strength to fight.
My birthday arrived with brilliant sun that contrasted with the darkness inside me. Jessica had been decorating since early morning: pink and gold balloons everywhere, a table with snacks, music playing in the background.
“See, Eleanor?” she said. “Everything’s perfect for you.”
The guests started arriving after four. Neighbors who barely spoke to me anymore. Some of Michael’s distant cousins. Jessica’s sister with her husband. And to my surprise, Carol, Barbara, and Helen also came.
“Eleanor, it’s so good to see you,” Carol said, hugging me tightly. “We haven’t heard from you in so long. We thought you were mad at us.”
“I could never be mad at you,” I whispered.
Jessica suddenly appeared between us. “My mother-in-law’s friends—come in, come in. There’s food and drinks for everyone.”
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