Three days later, the tension inside our home had become impossible to ignore. My mother nervously polished silverware while my father barely touched his dinner, both of them clearly anxious every time Chloe mentioned the birthday party waiting for us at the end of the week.
Trying to avoid another argument, my mother carefully suggested, “Girls… your father and I were talking. We were thinking… maybe a massive pool party isn’t the best idea for an eighteenth birthday. We just think a catered evening indoors, maybe renting out the banquet room at the country club, might be more elegant. More… comfortable for everyone.”
