On Memorial Day, I'd cooked an entire spread for my husband's family. His younger brother and sister-in-law ate the food, then collapsed and died on the spot.
To keep me out of prison, my husband spent every penny the family had. I worked myself to the bone, got my tubes tied, and devoted everything I had to raising the two children his brother left behind.
Twenty years later, those children had made something of themselves. I, on the other hand, had worked myself into a terminal diagnosis.
In my final moments, gasping for my last breath, I saw my husband with his arms around his sister-in-law — the woman who was supposed to be dead — kissing her like they'd loved each other all along.
"Catherine Gilbert, that stupid woman, never had a clue. We used her hands to get rid of my brother, that worthless parasite, and then she spent her whole life raising our kids for free."
"She was an only child from the state capital. Now that she's dead, everything she owned is ours. We can finally be a real family out in the open."
The breath caught in my throat. I died choking on my own rage.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I'd gone with my husband to visit the graves.
This time, I threw down the spatula. I didn't touch the stove. I walked straight out the door and went to get dinner.
But when I came back, my husband's brother and his wife were still lying in a pool of blood.
——
I opened my eyes, and that final breath was still trapped in my chest, burning its way up my throat.
Above me, the soot-blackened ceiling beams of my in-laws' kitchen came into focus. The flame on the stove hissed and crackled.
This was twenty years ago. The day I'd come back to the countryside with my husband for Memorial Day. I was in the middle of cooking the holiday feast for his family.
Every scene from before I died played through my mind, and a chill crawled from the soles of my feet to the crown of my skull.
When I was alive, I was the fool who never complained, who did everything she was told. Dead, I was nothing more than a stepping stone to their fortune.
Not this time. Never again.
I slammed the spatula onto the stovetop and turned for the door.
"You ungrateful woman! Have you lost your mind?!"
My mother-in-law, Carmen Finch, started shrieking immediately. My father-in-law, Alden Finch, was right behind her, cursing just as loud.
"City girl thinks she's too good for us! Putting on airs on a day we honor our ancestors — do you have no respect for your elders? No respect for this family?"
My husband snapped out of it and chased after me.
"Catherine, stop making a scene. All the relatives are watching. Just go back in and finish cooking."
I turned and looked at him. He hurried to close the distance.
"Mom and Dad are getting old. Chester Finch and his wife are waiting to eat. You walk out like this, what are people going to say about our family?"
"What are they gonna say? That the princess threw a tantrum." Chester's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Looks like my sister-in-law thinks us country folk aren't good enough for her. Figured she'd ruin the whole dinner."
His wife, Elena Lambert, chimed right in. "Just let her go, Andrew Finch. Some people were raised with a silver spoon. You really think she'd lower herself to cook for poor relatives like us?"
I didn't respond to any of them. I walked straight out of the courtyard, flagged down a passing motor rickshaw, and gave the driver the name of a restaurant in town.
The place wasn't crowded. I found a seat by the window and ordered the spiciest thing on the menu.
Twenty years of swallowed grievances, twenty years of thankless sacrifice — it all seemed to go down easier with the scalding broth.
I ate slowly. There was no rush. What was meant to happen would happen regardless. I didn't need to suffer for their sake anymore.
When I'd eaten my fill, I paid the bill and walked back toward the Finch house at my own pace.
The sky was nearly dark. Most of the relatives who'd come for the memorial had already left. The only sounds came from somewhere near the courtyard.
I'd barely reached the gate when I heard the screaming — raw and shrill.
I pushed the door open. The courtyard was chaos.
Chester and Elena lay flat on the ground in front of the main hall, motionless.
Carmen sat on the ground, slapping her thighs and wailing.
"My boy! My baby boy, how could you just leave me like this!"
Alden stood off to the side, his face drained of all color, trembling from head to foot.
