My eighteen-year-old brother reached for one piece of chicken at dinner, and my mother-in-law slapped him so hard his fork hit the plate. “You greedy little freeloader!” she screamed. My husband didn’t defend him. He looked at me and said, “Don’t make this worse.” Four years of keeping the peace ended right there—because Diane still believed she was standing in her son’s house.

It was of the two of us at his middle school graduation.

He was twelve, skinny and grinning, with his cap sitting crooked on his head.

I had my arm around him.

“Of course I still have it.”

“You look exactly the same.”

“That is why you’re my favorite sibling.”

“I’m your only sibling.”

“Still counts.”

He laughed.

Diane looked over.

“Claire has always spoiled you, apparently.”

The room changed slightly.

Noah did not notice.

I did.

“I wouldn’t call remembering a photograph spoiling him.”

“I didn’t mean the photograph.”

She looked at Noah.

“You’re the one she’s paying college for, right?”

Noah’s smile disappeared.

“I have financial aid too.”

“I’m sure.”

I put the last plate on the table.

“Diane.”

“What?”

“Leave it.”

She raised both hands.

“I’m making conversation.”

Noah looked embarrassed.

“I’m planning to work.”

“You should,” Diane said. “At eighteen, people need to learn what things cost.”