“Robert, I swear I’ve never mistreated her. Not once.”
He believed me, but when he confronted his mother, Martha immediately burst into tears.
“I’m an old woman. Maybe I’d be better off in a nursing home where I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone.”
And once again, Robert asked me to be patient.
But the final blow came one Sunday afternoon.
As I returned from the grocery store, I saw five neighborhood women gathered outside our house.
Martha was sitting among them, speaking loudly.
“Yesterday, my daughter-in-law told me she’s waiting for me to die so she can finally have the house to herself.”
I felt as though someone had poured ice water over my head.
I had never said anything like that.
Besides, the house had belonged to Robert and me long before Martha moved in.
At that moment, one of the neighbors turned, noticed me, and whispered:
