“Did we do something?”
“No.”
I answered so quickly that there could be no doubt.
“You and Jack did absolutely nothing. I love you both exactly the same as I did before your trip.”
“Are you still coming to my winter concert?”
“Front row if they let me.”
“They won’t. Parents sit in rows.”
“Then the best row available.”
That satisfied her.
After we hung up, I sat on my sofa and cried for the first time.
Not because Daniel had left me home.
Not because of the money.
Because an eight-year-old child had immediately wondered whether an adult’s departure was her fault.
I had promised myself I would never let that happen.
At four thirty, Daniel texted.
We’re home. Can you come at six?
I replied.
Yes.
Then, after thinking, I added:
I would prefer that we talk after the children are settled.
Agreed.
At six, I drove back to the house.
My former house.
Their house.
I wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.
Jack opened the door before I rang the bell.
“Grandma!”
He was eleven and had recently begun believing himself too old for enthusiastic affection, but he forgot that rule and hugged me.
Emily appeared behind him holding a paper bag.
“This is yours.”
Inside was a small wooden sea turtle painted blue and green.
“I picked it,” she said.
“It’s beautiful.”
“You can put it in your apartment.”
Rebecca stood several feet away.
She looked tired from the flight.
“Hi, Maggie.”
“Hello, Rebecca.”
No anger.
No embrace.
Just two women standing inside a home they had once built together in different ways.
Daniel came down the hallway.
“Kids, unpack. Grandma and I are going to talk later.”
“I can show her my shell first,” Emily said.
“You can show me another day.”
Emily frowned.
I crouched slightly to meet her eyes.
“Put all your treasures together and I’ll come see them Wednesday.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
That created a task important enough to send her upstairs.
Jack followed.
When they were gone, the three of us stood silently.
The absence of my furniture was noticeable but not dramatic.
The blue sofa was gone, leaving a rectangle of lighter carpet.
My sideboard had left an empty wall.
The coffee maker was gone.
Rebecca looked toward its former place.
“I bought a new one this morning.”
Her tone was not sarcastic.
