Chapter 5 - I DIDN’T LET DAVID STAY JUST BECAUSE SARAH LEFT
He assumed I would.
The next morning, David came downstairs looking exhausted.
“Sarah is staying with her parents.”
I nodded.
“We’re taking some space.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
He sat.
Then:
“So I guess I don’t need to move by the end of the month.”
I looked at him.
His face changed immediately.
“Oh.”
“You do.”
“Mom.”
“The issue was never only Sarah.”
“She called you a burden.”
“You agreed.”
“I know.”
“She wanted my house.”
“You benefited.”
“I know.”
“You used my account.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“Then why would her leaving erase your part?”
It didn’t.
He knew.
Then:
“Where am I supposed to go?”
Same question.
This time I answered differently.
“Your father and I raised you to be capable.”
“I think it’s time both of us find out whether we succeeded.”
Harsh?
Maybe.
Necessary?
Absolutely.
David found a one-bedroom apartment fifteen minutes from work.
Smaller than he wanted.
No garage.
Laundry in the basement.
Rent hurt.
Good.
Reality should occasionally cost what it costs.
He moved out on day twenty-seven.
Not day thirty.
Before leaving, he stood in the foyer.
Boxes everywhere.
I gave him a photograph.
Arthur holding David as a newborn.
He stared.
“Dad would be disappointed in me.”
I hated that sentence.
“Don’t use your dead father as punishment.”
He looked up.
“Your father loved you.”
“He also expected you to take responsibility.”
“Those can coexist.”
David hugged me.
I stiffened.
Then hugged him back.
He whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Then:
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t mean burden.”
I pulled away.
“You meant it enough to say it.”
His face fell.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to remain the person who said it.”
There.
The first opening.
Not absolution.
Possibility.
He left.
The house became quiet.
Very quiet.
I thought I would feel relieved.
Instead, I cried in the kitchen.
I missed the noise.
Even the slammed doors.
That surprised me.
So I called my friend Nora Jenkins from the botanical garden.
“Want company?”
“Yes.”
She arrived with Chinese takeout and absolutely no advice.
Excellent friend.
We ate at my table.
The same table.
No family meeting.
No retirement brochure.
Just noodles.
Then Nora looked around.
“You really selling?”
“Yes.”
“Sad?”
“Yes.”
“Excited?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
May you like
Adults can feel two things.
Families should teach that more often.
