A baby monitor.
“Perfect!” she said cheerfully. “Now you can stay with the kids while the rest of us head to the spa. They know you much better than the babysitters do, anyway.”
I blinked at her. I waited for the laugh, the wink, the “just kidding, Margaret.”
It didn’t come.
“Now you can stay with the kids.”
Kelly shifted her weight and looked at the floor. Tara giggled and adjusted her sunglasses.
“We booked the massage at three,” Vanessa added, checking her phone. “The kids just ate. Emma might need a nap around one. You’re a lifesaver!”
Before I could answer, all three of them picked up their luggage and walked toward the spa, their laughter echoing off the marble.
Kelly glanced back once. She almost said something. Then she didn’t.
“You’re a lifesaver!”
I stood there holding that baby monitor with my two grandchildren tugging at my sleeves. After everything I’d done for my family over the years, it never crossed their minds that I might deserve a break, too.
Emma looked up at me.
“Grandma, can we swim?”
I couldn’t speak. I just nodded because if I opened my mouth, I was going to cry right there in front of them, and I refused to do that.
I stood there holding that baby monitor.
I picked up my suitcase with one hand and took Emma’s little fingers in the other. Jacob followed behind, dragging his stuffed dinosaur across the polished floor.
The room was gorgeous. It had a king-size bed, a private balcony, and a bathtub big enough for two — all the things I’d imagined enjoying for myself.
I sat down on the edge of that bed while the kids explored the closet, and I stared at the baby monitor in my hand.
I picked up my suitcase with one hand.
Four decades of overtime shifts, skipping my own lunch so Donald could have new sneakers, and showing up whenever anyone called. And that was what they thought I was worth.
A plastic monitor and a hotel room I wouldn’t get to enjoy.
I pressed my palm to my mouth and let out one shaky breath. Then I straightened my back.
I realized I hadn’t been invited there to relax. I’d been invited to babysit.
That was what they thought I was worth.
Emma climbed up beside me and rested her head against my shoulder.
“Are you sad, Grandma?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said softly. “Grandma’s just thinking.”
And I was. I was thinking harder than I had in years.
I looked at the baby monitor in my hand.
And suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to do.
“Grandma’s just thinking.”
Because I’d spent my whole life being the woman who never complained. The woman who said yes. The woman who made everyone else’s weekend possible while she stayed home with a casserole dish and a load of laundry.
I wasn’t going to do it this time.
I looked down at Jacob, who was now trying to open the mini-fridge, and I smiled for real.
I had a resort at my fingertips and a room charged to Vanessa’s card. I had an idea forming that made my hands feel steady for the first time all afternoon.
I wasn’t going to do it this time.
I stood up, smoothed my blouse, and reached for the resort directory on the nightstand.
I sat on the edge of the hotel bed while the kids napped, the baby monitor humming softly beside me. My hurt hadn’t gone away. It had cooled into something steadier.
I gathered the kids once they woke and walked them down to the family activity center I’d noticed on the way in. The young woman at the desk smiled when I approached.
It had cooled into something steadier.
“Do you have room for two little ones this afternoon?” I asked.
“Absolutely, ma’am. We have crafts, a splash area, and a supervised movie hour.”
“Wonderful. I’d like to book them for the daytime programs all weekend, actually. Please charge it to Vanessa’s room.”
She tapped the screen and nodded. “All set. Daytime hours only. Pickup is by five.”
“Perfect. They’ll be with me in the evenings.”
I kissed the kids goodbye, watched them run toward a table piled with markers, and walked out feeling lighter than I had in years.
“I’d like to book them for the daytime programs.”
The spa smelled of eucalyptus and lavender, exactly the way I’d imagined it back home while packing my new swimsuit. I walked to the front desk and cleared my throat.
“I’d like the same package my DIL booked. Her name is Vanessa. It’s the girls’ spa package: massage, facial, and a champagne lunch by the pool.”
The receptionist smiled. “Of course. Same room charge?”
“Same room.”
I signed my name slowly. It felt like signing something much bigger than a spa slip.
“I’d like the same package my DIL booked.”
