Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS NEVER OUR MOTHER
Six months ended.
Eleanor called a family meeting.
We panicked.
She enjoyed that far too much.
Jamie immediately asked:
“Are you leaving?”
“Eventually.”
His face collapsed.
She continued:
“But not tomorrow.”
Relief.
Then she explained.
She had applied to finish a degree in family and youth services.
Night classes.
Part-time.
She did not want to spend the rest of her life as our housekeeper.
That hurt.
Then I realized why.
We had spent six months learning not to make love another form of ownership.
“What happens to us?” Theo asked.
Eleanor smiled.
“You continue being people.”
Roman frowned.
“Unhelpful.”
Dad spoke.
“I offered Eleanor a position running the family foundation's youth program.”
She looked at him.
“I declined.”
All four of us turned.
Dad sighed.
“She enjoyed that part.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I want to earn the qualification before wealthy men invent titles for me.”
Dad muttered:
“I was offering a real job.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Ask again after graduation.”
There.
Future.
Not abandonment.
Jamie accepted that eventually.
Then he asked:
“Can we still call you?”
“Yes.”
“Anytime?”
“No.”
He looked offended.
“Emergencies.”
“What counts?”
“Blood.”
He considered.
“Fire?”
“Yes.”
“Nightmares?”
Eleanor softened.
“Yes.”
Roman said:
“Bad haircut?”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
That evening, I found Eleanor in the kitchen.
Same room where I dropped breakfast into the trash six months earlier.
“You remember the first day?”
“Yes.”
“You made two breakfasts.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She smiled.
“The agency warned me about you.”
I stared.
“What?”
“They said the oldest boy would probably throw something.”
“So you planned it.”
“I planned eggs.”
I laughed.
Then became serious.
“Why did you stay?”
She thought.
“Because underneath everything, none of you were cruel when somebody smaller was involved.”
“What does that mean?”
“You terrorized adults.”
“Fair.”
“But Roman used to feed the gardener's cat.”
I smiled.
“Theo walked Jamie to school whenever he was scared.”
True.
“And you?”
She looked at me.
“You were angry at almost everyone.”
“Also true.”
“But every time one of your brothers entered a room upset, you turned toward him.”
I swallowed.
“So?”
“So I thought there might be something worth waiting for.”
Not fixing.
May you like
Waiting for.
That distinction mattered.
