Chapter 2: The Sign by the Buffet Table
When I hobbled outside on my crutches, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Donald's mother was standing at the center of the pool area, holding a large handwritten sign she had made from the back of a cardboard box she found in the kitchen.
It read:
**"My son made his wife cook all of this food alone — on a broken leg.
He is 40 years old today.
Please think about that while you eat."**
The sign was propped up right against the buffet table.
Against MY food.
Every single guest had read it.
Donald was shaking.
"Mom, take that down RIGHT NOW."
She didn't move.
"You will not take it down," she said calmly.
"These people are your friends.
They should know what kind of man you are."
A few guests quietly set their plates down and said nothing.
One woman — a friend Donald had known for twenty years — picked up her bag and left without a word.
Donald turned to me, his face still red, and hissed: "Did you put her up to this?"
Before I could answer, his mother stepped between us.
"She didn't have to," she said.
"I have eyes."
May you like
Then she looked at me with an expression I had never seen from her before.
And she said something that made my heart stop.
