Grandchildren
"Well, what's wrong with that?" Ivan replied, a trifle defensively. "They're good kids, and they like spending time with me."
Deborah sat back down at the table and propped her head on one hand. "Oh, I know. I just wish they didn't hate spending time with me."
"Oh, honey." Ivan sat down beside her. "You know that's not true... little Ellie gets so excited whenever you come to visit, after all..."
Deborah shook her head emphatically. "It is true. Oh, sure, Ellie still likes me well enough, but that'll change soon enough." She sighed, looking vaguely off into the distance. "Do you remember when they were all younger, and Pete would show me his drawings, and Sandy would call me 'Nana Deb'? But as they got older, they both started distancing themselves from me, because they realized they weren't actually my grandchildren."
Ivan clasped her hands in his. "Of course they're your grandchildren, Debbie -- "
"No, they're not. I'm not really their grandma. I'm just some woman their grandpa married." She drew back, then rose from the table and busied herself with the teakettle. "Ellie will realize that soon enough. Or her mother will make it clear to her. Either way." Then, as Ivan began to respond, "And don't tell me that she wouldn't, because we both know she would. She's your daughter, and you know her well enough to see that. She's never forgiven me for marrying you."
Ivan looked at her for a moment, and then merely nodded. "No," he replied quietly. "You're right. She never has."
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