She turned the screen toward me. My eyes scanned the text she had inputted into the “Special Instructions” box.
Delivery Note to be read aloud: “To my ‘severely sick’ Aunt Melanie and my loving grandparents. I sent this cheap, garbage food specifically for Jason, the father who drained our bank accounts and stole my college fund so he could buy prime rib for his mistress. I hope the champagne tastes great. Enjoy your meal. Signed: Your thirteen-year-old granddaughter, Ava.”
I stared at the screen, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. A mixture of absolute terror and profound, undeniable awe washed over me. “Ava… they are going to be humiliated. The management will go crazy.”
“That’s the point, Mom,” Ava said, her voice hardening. “They left us to eat our grief in silence. They thought they could lie to us and hide in the shadows of someone else’s livestream while they celebrated the man who abused you. I’m not letting them get away with it.”
She wasn’t finished.
Ava walked over to the kitchen island and pulled her iPad from its charging dock. She opened the Facebook app.
“When I was watching Chloe’s livestream, I didn’t just watch it. I hit the screen-record button,” Ava explained, her fingers flying across the digital keyboard with the terrifying speed and proficiency native to her generation.
She opened a new post. She uploaded the high-definition video of my parents, my sister, Jason, and the mistress all laughing and clinking their champagne glasses.
“Who are you sending that to?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Everyone,” Ava replied instantly. “I am tagging Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Melanie, Jason, his new girlfriend, and Chloe. I am also tagging Aunt Carol, Uncle Robert, the pastor of Grandma’s church, and the president of Aunt Melanie’s country club. If they want to be a happy family so badly, the whole world should get to celebrate with them.”
She turned the iPad so I could see the caption she had typed above the video. It was devastatingly polite, dripping with a sarcasm so thick it could choke a horse.
Caption: “Happy Thanksgiving to my wonderful family! Thank you so much Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Melanie for lying to my mom tonight, telling us you were violently ill, just so you could sneak out and have a lavish dinner with the man who abandoned us and stole my college savings. My mom spent three days cooking a beautiful turkey for you. The homemade pecan pie I baked from scratch is delicious. It’s such a pity you guys chose an abuser’s steak over your own daughter and granddaughter. Enjoy the Taco Bell I just had delivered to your table! We’ll be eating our feast without you.”
She hovered her finger over the bright blue ‘Post’ button. She looked up at me, pausing.
“Mom. You have let them walk all over you for a year and a half,” Ava said softly, the anger in her eyes momentarily replaced by a deep, protective love. “You let them tell you that you were crazy. You let them make you feel small. I am not letting them do it anymore. But if you tell me to delete this, I will.”
