He looked at me.
“Mom.”
“That isn’t punishment.”
“It feels like it.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“Then why?”
“Because nothing will change if you stay.”
He looked down.
I continued.
“You and Vanessa need to learn what your life actually costs.”
He flinched slightly.
“You need a home that belongs to you because you pay for it. You need a budget based on what you actually earn. And you need a marriage built on information both of you possess.”
He nodded slowly.
“And you?”
The question surprised me.
“What about me?”
“What happens to you?”
“I stay here.”
“Alone?”
“I was alone before you moved in.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I knew that.
He looked toward the sunroom.
“Mom, I think maybe we stopped asking what you wanted.”
I felt something shift in my chest.
He looked back at me.
“We assumed because Dad died here, and because this was our family house, you wanted everything to stay the same.”
I almost smiled.
“You changed quite a lot.”
He winced.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to stay here?”
I looked around the kitchen.
The maple cabinets were scratched near the handles.
One tile beside the refrigerator had been cracked since 2012.
Daniel had installed the shelves himself, badly.
I had complained about them for years.
After he died, I could not bring myself to fix them.
“I don’t know,” I said.
It was the most surprising thing I had said all morning.
Ethan stared at me.
I stared at the room.
For twenty-three years, I had thought of the house as something permanent.
But perhaps permanence was another assumption.
At eight thirty, Vanessa came downstairs.
She wore a cream sweater and no makeup.
I had rarely seen her look so young.
She stopped when she saw us.
“Can I sit?”
“It’s still a free country,” I said.
Ethan gave me a look.
I almost laughed.
Vanessa sat.
For several seconds she twisted the ring on her finger.
Then she said, “I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
She blinked.
Perhaps she expected me to make it easier for her.
I did not.
She took a breath.
“What I said last night was rude.”
“It was.”
“And arrogant.”
“Yes.”
“And I’ve been disrespectful about the house.”
“Yes.”
Ethan stared into his coffee.
Vanessa looked at him.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“No.”
“Because you’re being very quiet.”
He gave her a tired look.
“I’ve learned that’s apparently one of my problems.”
Despite everything, a small sound escaped me.
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