“Amanda, what did you send?”
Sophie tapped it before her mother could stop her.
“Here, Grandma. This one.”
I took the phone.
The first photo showed me asleep in Caleb’s car after Sophie’s school concert.
The caption read:
“Big afternoon out.”
Laughing reactions sat underneath it.
“Here, Grandma. This one.”
I swiped.
Another photo showed me leaving Amanda’s kitchen with leftovers she’d packed for me herself.
“She never leaves empty-handed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Keep going,” I said.
“Linda, just stop,” Amanda said. “Please.”
“She never leaves empty-handed.”
I swiped again.
There I was in my bedroom: black swimsuit, bare arms, standing in front of my mirror while I still thought I looked brave enough to swim.
I hadn’t even known Amanda was there.
“Guess who’s ready for pool season.”
I looked up.
“You were standing in my bedroom.”
“Guess who’s ready for pool season.”
“It was a joke.”
“You photographed me without telling me.”
“You were dressed.”
“That’s supposed to make it better?”
Yvonne leaned closer to the screen.
Her expression changed.
“That’s supposed to make it better?”
“Amanda… Linda didn’t know that you send things to our group?”
Amanda looked away.
Yvonne’s voice dropped. “You told us she laughed about these too.”
I stared at my daughter-in-law.
“You told them I knew?”
“I said you wouldn’t care about nonsense like this.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“You told us she laughed about these too.”
“Linda, can we not do this here?”
That almost made me laugh.
She hadn’t cared who heard her comments about my body ten minutes earlier.
Now she wanted privacy.
I handed back the phone.
Then I took Sophie’s spare towel from my bag and gave it to Amanda.
“Linda, can we not do this here?”
She frowned. “What’s this?”
“I was bringing potato salad to your house after swimming today. You know, for the barbecue.”
“Okay? And?”
“You’ll need to stop somewhere and buy some.”
Her face changed.
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
“You’ll need to stop somewhere and buy some.”
Sophie looked up at me.
“Did I make everybody mad?”
I crouched beside her.
“No, sweetheart. You told me something I needed to know.”
“But Mom’s mad.”
“Your mom can be mad. You don’t have to fix it. She did something wrong, and she should be ashamed of what she did.”
“Did I make everybody mad?”
Amanda flinched.
I kissed Sophie’s wet hair, stood, and picked up my bag.
“Grandma?”
I turned.
“Are you still coming swimming another day?”
I looked at the water, then at my robe.
“Yes,” I said. “Just not today.”
Amanda flinched.
And this time, leaving wasn’t me hiding.
It was me deciding where I wanted to be.
***
At home, I went straight to the bathroom and pulled off the swimsuit.
I dropped it into the trash.
I shoved the potato salad into the refrigerator and started toward the living room.
I dropped it into the trash.
Then I stopped.
“No.”
I went back, pulled the swimsuit out, and rinsed it.
Amanda had already decided how I should feel about my body that day.
She wasn’t deciding whether I ever wore that swimsuit again.
I hung it over the shower rod.
Then I stopped.
***
An hour later, Caleb knocked.
My son stepped inside, looking exhausted.
“Mom, Yvonne sent me the screenshots.”
“All of them?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t know Amanda was taking pictures of you.”
“All of them?”
“Did you know she made jokes about me?”
Caleb hesitated.
That answered me.
“I see,” I said. “What kind of jokes, Caleb?”
“Your clothes sometimes. Your driving. That purse you carry everywhere.”
“My purse?”
He looked embarrassed. “She called it your survival kit.”
“What kind of jokes, Caleb?”
“Did you laugh?”
“Once or twice.”
“Were the jokes funny?”
“Mom…”
“Caleb.”
He looked down.
“No.”
Normally, this was where I’d tell him it was fine.
“Caleb.”
I didn’t.
“You didn’t have to make those jokes, Caleb. You just had to let her think they were acceptable.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He nodded slowly. “Sophie told me she’s heard Amanda make comments about women’s bodies before. Weight, clothes, getting older.”
That got my attention.
“About Sophie?”
“You didn’t have to make those jokes, Caleb.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Not yet isn’t good enough.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t fix this because Amanda embarrassed me. Fix it because your daughter is listening.”
Caleb sat across from me.
“I told Amanda she needs to delete every picture and tell the group you never knew.”
“Good.”
“And she will.”
“No.”
“Fix it because your daughter is listening.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Don’t make her do it.”
“Mom, she needs to.”
“Yes. But if you force the apology, she’ll blame you for it later. She needs to understand why she’s doing it.”
Caleb went quiet.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
“Don’t make her do it.”
***
That evening, Amanda came to my door.
I opened it but stayed in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I went too far.”
“How far would’ve been fine?”
She blinked.
“Linda…”
“One picture? Two?”
I opened it but stayed in the doorway.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you meant.”
Amanda crossed her arms, then dropped them again.
“I was joking with my friends.”
“About me.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
She looked away.
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you meant.”
“Try again.”
Her eyes came back to mine.
“Because you usually let things go.”
There it was.
“You thought I’d stay quiet.”
Amanda swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Because you usually let things go.”
I nodded once.
“At least that’s honest.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I wrote something to the group.”
“Read it.”
Amanda hesitated.
“I’m sorry if anyone misunderstood…”
