One Last Glass to Myself

The day tickets went on sale for the concert of the idol we'd loved for ten years, neither my husband nor I managed to snag a pair.

The next day, my mother-in-law showed up at our door with groceries. "Oh, well," she said, "if you couldn't get tickets, just skip it."

"Celeste Swanson is three months pregnant. She should be resting. Once the baby's off to college, there'll be plenty of chances to go out and have fun."

I said nothing.

But the concert crept closer, one day at a time,

and in the end I couldn't help it. I quietly bought a scalped ticket and went.