Page 3 of It Started With a Scarf

"Do you need money?"

"You already give us money, Mom."

"Do you need more?"

"Don't do that. Don't try to buy my approval. What you did was wrong."

"How was it wrong?"

"Because why that scarf? Why would you give it to a ten-year-old? She's a baby. She doesn't know how to take care of something like that."

My sister started to snicker, and I put my hand over her mouth. It didn't matter. My mom and grandma were being too loud to hear us, anyway.

"I don't need her to take care of it. I didn't give it to her with expectations."

"You shouldn't have given it to her at all!"

"Stop yelling, Torrie. Say what you need to say to me, just don't yell."

"Okay, Vanessa. Here's what I need to say. You never gave me squat for any of my birthdays. All you did was leave Dad and me."

"That's not true. I hope you don't actually think that's true. I left your father because I felt like I needed to. I didn't leave you. I asked you to come with me."

"To a different state with no money and no plan? You couldn't even take care of yourself, much less me."

"That's your father who told you that. You were sixteen, Torrie, and you made your own decision to stay with him. I told you to come with me. I asked you to."

"You were glad I stayed!"

"That's not true."

"You moved to New York and worked as a waitress in a diner, Mom! You're lucky you met Frank. Don't pretend you had time for me. You certainly never brought me and my friends to the mall. I never once got a birthday with strawberry daiquiris in the mall with my friends—much less the scarf, Mom. You never gave me anything important to you."

"Is that what it is? Did you want the scarf?"

I felt sick to my stomach, waiting to hear how my mom would answer my grandmother's question. I just knew she was going to agree that she wanted it and I was going to have to give it up.

"That's not what this is about. Yeah, sure I would have loved for you to think about me and give me the scarf. It doesn't matter because you never consider my feelings, do you, Mom?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way because I do consider your feelings very much. I love you. I love my granddaughters."

"Exactly! You have two granddaughters. What are you going to do for Ada when she turns ten? Where's your second scarf? What if you happen to be off in Paris with Frank doing some lecture when Ada turns ten—what if you can't just come by and crash her party with some priceless heirloom? How's she going to feel? Do you ever think about that? Do you ever think about how others feel?"

"I should've asked you if it was okay for me to give her the scarf, Torrie. Now that I think about it, I should have asked you. I'm sorry. An-and I'll do something nice for Ada when she turns ten."

Mom let out a long frustrated sigh. "Thanks. I guess. Thanks for making everyone's day. I'm sure she'll really use your lovely used scarf even though we live in Texas and it doesn't get cold here. Thanks, Mom. Thanks so much. Real thoughtful gift."

My mom was clearly still mad, and my sister held onto me.

"Shhh," I said, in her ear.

"Torrie, what can I do to make it right?"

"Nothing. You've already done enough. Just get out!"

"Let me help you with the dishes."

"Stop! Don't touch me! Just get out! I'm serious.You shouldn't have come here today!"

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