“Yes.”
“Will you come back to the house?”
“To talk. Yes.”
“To live.”
“I don’t know.”
That frightened him.
I could hear it.
And I understood why.
My leaving did not simply create an emotional problem.
It created practical ones.
Who would pick up Jack on Tuesdays?
Who would stay with Emily when school closed?
Who would cook three nights a week?
Who would buy groceries when Rebecca forgot?
Who would sit with the children so Daniel and Rebecca could go to dinner?
I wondered whether he was thinking about losing his mother or losing the life his mother had made easier.
Perhaps both.
That was the hardest possibility of all.
People were rarely only one thing.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something we need to talk about when I get home.”
“What?”
“The house.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What about it?”
“Just… the money you gave us when we bought it.”
