3
“…What?” Claire looked at me, disbelief
etched on her face.
I repeated, slowly and clearly, “I won’t force
you to practice anymore. In fact, I won’t force
you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“No more checking your homework, no more
nagging about bedtime. You want to date?
Go ahead. I won’t interfere. I won’t control
you anymore. You’re free to do whatever you
want.‘
“9
I made myself perfectly clear. She could tell I
wasn’t bluffing, or trying reverse psychology. I
meant it.
A slow smile spread across her face.
“I can quit piano lessons?” she asked
tentatively.
“Of course,” I smiled. “I haven’t paid for next
semester anyway.”
Her expression flickered, a hint of unease, but
she quickly brushed it aside. Right now,
securing her freedom was her priority.
“I met this guy online, he’s really sweet. I’m
<
going to meet him this weekend. You won’t
stop me, right?”
“Of course not,” I nodded. “I support you
finding true love.”
She tested me with a few more requests, all
of which I readily agreed to, promising no
interference. Satisfied, she skipped to her
room, threw her backpack on the floor, and
flopped onto her bed, phone in hand, ready to
game.
“I’m starving!” she yelled. “I want sweet and
sour pork for dinner! Make it now!”
I ignored her, scrolling through my phone,
<
contacting a lawyer friend to draft divorce
papers. John would be home tonight, a
perfect time for him to sign.
As for dinner? Anyone who wanted it could
make it. I was ordering takeout to celebrate
my rebirth.
After a couple of rounds of her game, Claire
emerged, ravenous. Finding the dining table
empty, she exploded. “I said I wanted sweet
and sour pork! Are you deaf as well as
stupid?”
I glanced up from my phone. “I told you, I’m
not taking care of you anymore. Your hunger
isn’t my problem.
L
“Are you crazy, old lady?” she shrieked. “If
you don’t cook, who will?”
I shrugged. “Whoever wants to can cook. I
won’t.” Cooking for myself? Absolutely.
Cooking for this ungrateful child? No, thank
you.
The doorbell rang. My dim sum takeout had
arrived. As Claire watched in stunned silence,
I unpacked the steaming containers. Congee,
shrimp dumplings, shumai, pan–fried
dumplings… all the things I’d denied myself
to save money.
She plopped down at the table. “Which one is
mine?”
<
“I ordered this for myself,” I said. “There’s
nothing for you.”
Her eyes bulged. “Then what am I supposed
to eat? You’ve lost your mind!
99
“I knew this sudden change was fake! You’re
just trying to trick me into practicing! I’m so
sick of it!”
“No wonder Dad never comes home! No one
can stand you!”
“Give me money! I’m going out for seafood!”
I popped a shrimp dumpling into my mouth,
savoring the flavor. “Ask your dad for
money.”
