Chapter 5 - Nora
My fifteen-year-old daughter, Nora, learned about the slap from TikTok before I got home.
She was waiting in kitchen.
“Mom.”
“I’m okay.”
“That woman hit you.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you hit her back?”
“Because I enjoy employment.”
Nora did not laugh.
She watched video again.
I hated that it existed.
The angle showed Vanessa’s hand.
My face.
The tray.
Then sandwich falling.
Comments were worse.
Some called Vanessa a monster.
Some called me hero.
Some said staged.
Some mocked my hairnet.
Nora slammed phone down.
“I hate people.”
“Temporary condition.”
She looked at my cheek.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
Then:
“Were those kids really going to eat that?”
“Yes.”
Her face changed.
Nora had spent years embarrassed I worked cafeteria.
Not cruelly.
Teenager embarrassed by everything.
Once she asked me not to wear Oakridge polo when picking her up.
I pretended it didn't sting.
Now she said:
“You knew because of your job.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Like seeing job differently.
I didn't need gratitude.
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But I noticed.
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