“And what was I doing, Howard?”
Howard zipped the suitcase. The sound was small and final.
“I’ll come back for the rest,” he said.
“Okay.”
That was all I gave him. One word. He looked almost disappointed, as if he’d wanted a fight to make himself the victim.
***
The house got loud after he left. Not noisy loud, but the subtle kind made by every clock, pipe, and settling beam.
I moved through the house like a ghost, wore the same sweater for three days, and ate the occasional slice of dry toast standing over the sink because sitting at the table felt like pretending.
That was all I gave him.
I even stopped passing the hallway mirror, or any mirrors, and started taking the long way around through the laundry room instead, because I didn’t want proof that Howard might’ve been right.
Steve called on the fourth day.
“Mom, Dad told me.”
“I figured.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, honey.”
My son was quiet for so long, I thought the line had dropped. Then he asked, “Are you eating?”
“Yes,” I lied.
I even stopped passing the hallway mirror.
“Okay. Good. I love you, Mom.”
I told him I loved him, too, and hung up before my voice could betray me.
***
Monica came on a Saturday morning, uninvited, with grocery bags and a face that wouldn’t take no for an answer. She put away the milk after making tea I hadn’t asked for and set it in front of me.
Then she sat down across the table and folded her hands.
“Mom.”
“I’m fine, Monica.”
I told him I loved him, too.
“You’re not. And that’s okay. But I want to ask you something, and I want you to really think about it,” my daughter said.
I wrapped my hands around the mug just to feel something warm.
“Mom, when was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”
I opened my mouth. I closed it. I tried again.
I thought about the dental office, Steve’s invoices, which I helped sort, Monica’s dog, and Howard’s needs, like the clothes that used to hang in a closet he’d already half emptied.
Nothing came. Not one thing that had been only mine.
“I want to ask you something.”
Monica didn’t push. She just sat with me in the quiet while the answer I didn’t have filled every corner of the room.
And somewhere in that silence, something very small inside me stood up.
