“There is no space for her at the family reunion,” she said.
For a second, I truly thought I had misheard her.
I looked at the table, then at the list in her hand, then back at her.
“No space for who?” I asked, because the words made no sense in that room, in that house, in a conversation about a family event full of children.
Mom gave me the look she used when she thought I was being deliberately difficult.
“For Sophie,” she said simply. “The numbers were finalized already.”
I stared at her.
There were extra folding chairs stacked in the garage. There were two empty seats at the table we were standing beside. My brain kept trying to solve it like a practical problem.
“Then add one more,” I said. “Call and add one more.”
Mom’s mouth flattened, and that was when I understood this was not a scheduling issue at all.
