Three hours into Mom’s surgery, Grant posted on social media. He and Emily were sitting together in a bar booth, surrounded by his noisy friends, the table full of empty bottles.
Emily’s face was flushed, her eyes half-closed as she leaned against Grant’s chest.
I clicked like on the post. Before I could even lower my phone, Emily called.
I couldn’t describe what I felt. While my mother was fighting for her life in surgery, Emily hadn’t made a single call to ask about her, yet the moment it involved Grant, she called right away.
As soon as I answered, her sharp voice came through the phone.
“What’s with your like? So what if I had a few drinks with Grant and his friends?”
“Just because I married you, I can’t even choose who I drink with anymore?”
Before I could speak, Grant’s voice came from the background.
“Emily, don’t say that. He’s just worried about you.”
“Worried? He doesn’t trust me; he just wants to control me.”
“Alright, alright, Emily, stop. It’s late. I’ll take you home.”
“Go home? No way. We’re drinking till morning! Come on, keep drinking!”
“Haha, Emily, you’re amazing!”
“Emily, cheers to you!”
The noise from Grant’s friends filled the line.