Aunt Linda called with an update.
“Your mother was asked to step down from the spring charity gala committee,” she said carefully. “They said they needed someone who could focus fully on the event.”
I did not feel triumphant.
I did not feel much of anything.
“How is she taking it?”
“Not well. Your father says she barely leaves the house.”
I closed my eyes.
“I didn’t want this, Aunt Linda. I just wanted her to understand.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she said. “But understanding and consequences are not the same thing. She’s facing both now.”
That same week, my father called me.
It was the first time he had ever initiated contact without my mother prompting him.
“Your mother is struggling,” he said, his voice tired. “I’m not calling to guilt you. I’m calling because I should have done more a long time ago.”
“You should have,” I said.
“I know.”
A long pause followed.
“Myra, I love you,” he said. “And I’m sorry I let you down.”
It was not enough.
But it was more than I had ever gotten before.
“I love you too, Dad,” I said. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”
We talked for twenty minutes, the longest conversation we had had in years.
Kyle’s fresh start lasted three weeks.
After leaving my house, he and Brittany bounced between friends’ couches, wearing out their welcome faster than anyone expected. By early April, they were down to one last option: a college buddy with a pullout sofa and declining patience.
My mother predictably tried to intervene.
“They could stay with us,” she told my father. “Just until Kyle finds something.”
According to Aunt Linda, who was present for that conversation, my father did something unprecedented.
He said no.
“We’ve been helping Kyle his entire life,” he told my mother. “Where has it gotten him? Thirty-one years old, no stable job, no savings, expecting other people to fix his problems. Maybe it’s time he figures it out himself.”
My mother did not speak to him for two days.
But she did not override him either.
Without a family safety net to fall back on, Kyle was forced to function independently.
He applied for jobs.
Most did not call back.
A few did.
On April eighth, he started working at an Amazon fulfillment center. Eighteen dollars an hour. Four ten-hour shifts a week.
