Chương 13
A pause.
“No, I realize we withdrew.”
Another pause.
“I was hoping the unit might still be available.”
Jason watched her.
She turned away from us.
“Yes.”
Then she was quiet for a long time.
When she came back, her expression gave us nothing.
Jason stood.
“Well?”
“They haven’t signed with anyone else.”
His shoulders dropped.
“But?”
“They offered it to the next applicant.”
“So it’s gone.”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“They gave them until noon to confirm.”
Jason checked the time.
It was eight-fifty-three.
Melissa continued.
“If they decline, the property manager said we can reactivate.”
“And if they accept?”
“Then we find something else.”
He nodded slowly.
For once, neither of them tried to pretend that was a plan.
My phone rang.
Mom again.
I answered.
“Hi.”
“Emily, Sophie heard Jason say something about a hotel.”
Mom sounded irritated and scared.
“She wants to know why they can’t stay with you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Don’t answer for me.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good.”
“She’s upset.”
“I’m sure.”
“You should talk to her.”
Melissa looked at me.
I handed her the phone.
She stared at it.
“Mom wants you.”
Melissa took it.
“Hi.”
She listened.
Then her face tightened.
“No, don’t tell her that.”
A pause.
“Because it isn’t Emily’s fault.”
Jason looked up.
Melissa turned away from us.
“No.”
Her voice became firmer.
“Mom, stop.”
Another pause.
“I made a mistake.”
She glanced back at me.
“Several.”
Then she closed her eyes.
“Tell Sophie I’m coming.”
She ended the call.
Jason stood.
“I’ll come.”
Melissa nodded.
Neither moved immediately.
Then she looked at me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“If the townhouse is gone, would you let us stay here for two nights?”
The old answer rose automatically.
Maybe.
Just until Monday.
For the kids.
Then I pictured the moving truck.
The listing Mom had sent.
My bedroom assigned to Melissa and Jason before I owned a mattress.
The lie about ownership.
The quiet assumption that once they crossed my threshold, my no would become crueler to enforce.
I looked at my sister.
“No.”
She flinched, but she did not argue.
I continued.
“I’ll pay for two hotel rooms for two nights.”
Her head came up.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“It isn’t a loan.”
“I said no.”
For the first time that morning, I heard myself in her voice.
I almost smiled.
“Okay.”
She stared at me.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to push?”
“No.”
Her mouth twisted.
“That’s irritating.”
“I can live with that.”
Jason looked between us.
“I’ll take the hotel.”
Melissa turned on him.
“Jason.”
“For the kids.”
“We have money.”
“Not enough to pretend eight hundred forty dollars in storage doesn’t matter.”
She looked ready to fight.
Then stopped.
I could see the calculation moving across her face.
This time she let it happen in public.
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
“I’ll find somewhere reasonable.”
“Not downtown.”
“I wasn’t planning a vacation.”
“And not one room.”
“Two.”
“The boys can share with us.”
“Sophie and Ethan need space.”
Melissa looked at me strangely.
Then she nodded.
“Two.”
Jason exhaled.
It was not a solution.
It was one night becoming survivable.
That was enough for the moment.
I opened a hotel app while they left to collect the children from Mom.
Daniel came over after the lobby doors closed behind them.
“Everything settled?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“That sounds more realistic.”
I found two rooms at a business hotel a few miles away and booked them through Monday morning.
Then I looked at the empty loading lane outside.
“You can remove the move restriction from my file.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“Are you authorizing something?”
“No.”
“Then I’d rather leave the note.”
“For how long?”
He closed the folder.
“Until you tell me otherwise.”
I looked toward the elevator.
My body ached.
My family was furious, frightened, broke, embarrassed, and scattered between three locations before nine in the morning.
Nothing had been fixed.
But not one box had crossed my door.
“Leave it,” I said.
Daniel nodded and slid the folder back under his arm.
I took the elevator upstairs alone.
The condo felt larger when I opened the door.
Not better.
Just larger.
I locked the new deadbolt, set my phone on the kitchen counter, and stood there until I could no longer pretend I was not exhausted.
The sectional was twelve steps away.
It felt like twelve blocks.
I lay down with the heating pad over my abdomen and woke almost three hours later to someone knocking.
For one confused second, I thought Melissa had come back with the truck.
Then I saw Mom’s name on my phone and heard her knock again.
“Emily, I know you’re in there.”
I stared at the ceiling.
She knocked a third time.
“I’m not staying.”
That was probably meant to reassure me.
It did not.
I got up slowly and opened the door without removing the security chain.
Mom stood in the hallway holding a grocery bag.
Her hair was still damp around the edges, and she had changed into the navy cardigan she wore whenever she wanted to look composed.
“You changed the lock.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the chain.
“That seems excessive.”
“No, it seems effective.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I brought soup.”
“I have food.”
“You have mustard.”
I stared at her.
“Melissa told you.”
“She mentioned your refrigerator.”
For some reason, that irritated me more than everything else.
“You all have had a very productive morning discussing my appliances.”
Mom lowered the grocery bag.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
She looked genuinely startled.
I had never refused her entry to anywhere before.
Not an apartment.
Not a hotel room.
Not even my office when she once showed up at lunch because she was nearby and decided nearby was the same thing as invited.
“Emily.”
“I need to rest.”
“I only want five minutes.”
“You never want five minutes.”
May you like
She flinched.
That made me feel cruel.
