Chương 7
Then her expression became serious.
“I don’t want you to do this and resent me.”
“I probably will sometimes.”
She blinked.
Mark looked at the toast.
“I’m trying not to promise things I can’t promise.”
Rachel sat very still.
“I’ll resent the money. The commute. Giving up the office. Maybe you. Maybe Mom. You’ll resent me for things too.”
“I already do.”
He looked up.
Rachel’s face softened.
“That sounded terrible.”
“It sounded honest.”
She nodded.
For the first time in four days, she reached across the table.
Not for his hand.
For his untouched toast.
She ate half.
They spent the next week looking at apartments.
It was humiliating.
Their current home had high ceilings, underground parking, a doorman in the evenings, and enough kitchen space for Rachel to complain that Mark still chopped vegetables on the smallest cutting board.
Their budget produced carpeted two-bedrooms beside highways and renovated one-bedrooms advertised as “spacious” by people with flexible relationships to language.
Rachel rejected the first because the bedroom window faced a dumpster.
Mark rejected the second because parking cost another three hundred dollars a month.
They both rejected the third because the hallway smelled like wet dog.
At the fourth, Rachel stood in a narrow kitchen and said, “I could live here.”
Mark looked at the electric stove.
“You hate electric.”
“I hate your mother more.”
He looked at her.
Rachel winced.
“Sorry.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Not currently.”
They laughed.
It felt dangerous and familiar.
They applied.
The landlord required proof of income, references, a security deposit, and enough paperwork to make Mark appreciate the irony of finally reading every page.
At home, Eleanor noticed.
“You’re moving.”
It was not a question.
Mark set the application folder on the island.
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“Rachel too?”
“That’s generally how marriage works.”
“Not lately.”
He sighed.
“Mom.”
“When?”
“If we’re approved, next month.”
Eleanor sat at the table.
Mark waited for anger.
It did not come.
“What about this place?”
“It’s yours.”
“It already was.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward the windows.
“This is too big for me.”
“You can sell it.”
“I know.”
“You can rent it.”
“I know.”
“You can ask Laura.”
Eleanor’s mouth tightened.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Your solution to everything. Give it to a woman.”
Mark stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Eleanor tried not to.
Failed.
The laugh changed into a cough.
Mark brought her water.
She drank.
When she set the glass down, her face was serious again.
“I don’t want you to move because you’re afraid I’ll throw you out.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why?”
“Because Rachel was right.”
Eleanor waited.
“This stopped being her home.”
His mother looked down.
“It stopped being mine too.”
Eleanor’s fingers moved against the glass.
“That wasn’t what I wanted.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
She looked up.
Mark pulled out a chair.
“I don’t think any of us know what we wanted anymore.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Then she nodded.
The apartment application was approved three days later.
Rachel came home that evening.
She did not announce that she was returning. She simply entered carrying the canvas tote and her laptop.
Eleanor was watching a cooking show.
Mark was unloading the dishwasher.
Rachel stopped near the living room.
Eleanor muted the television.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
Neither woman moved.
Rachel put down the tote.
“I’m staying until we move.”
Eleanor nodded.
“All right.”
“I’m not pretending everything’s fine.”
“I would find that suspicious.”
Rachel looked at her.
“I also owe you an apology.”
Mark stopped unloading the dishwasher.
Rachel glanced at him.
“Could you not stand there like an audience?”
He put down the plate and went into the bedroom.
He left the door open half an inch.
Then closed it because that was worse.
He sat on the bed.
Ten minutes later Rachel came in.
“How did it go?”
“She accepted.”
“That’s good.”
“She also said she still doesn’t like me.”
Mark looked at her.
Rachel sat beside him.
“I told her the feeling was currently mutual.”
“How mature.”
“We’re growing.”
He smiled.
Rachel leaned against him.
It was the first time she had touched him voluntarily since the garage.
He did not move.
After a while she said, “I’m still angry at you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t trust you yet.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
“Sorry.”
She put her head on his shoulder.
“Better.”
Moving took three weeks.
Those weeks were worse in some ways than the years before them because nobody could hide behind routine anymore.
Eleanor criticized the movers Mark hired.
Rachel told her to stop.
Eleanor stopped.
Then complained privately to Mark.
Mark told her to tell Rachel herself.
Eleanor refused.
Rachel discovered Eleanor had been paying part of their property taxes through the trust and accused Mark of hiding that too.
He genuinely had not known.
Rachel did not believe him for several hours.
Laura called from Oregon and wanted to know why their mother had suddenly changed attorneys.
Eleanor told her.
Laura called Mark furious.
“You tried to put Mom in assisted living?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That sentence means you did something stupid.”
“Probably.”
“Did she need assisted living?”
“She needs some help.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mark sat on the floor surrounded by moving boxes.
“No.”
Laura became quiet.
Then she said, “Why didn’t you call me?”
He looked around at the apartment.
“Because you live two thousand miles away and it’s easy for you to have opinions.”
Laura inhaled sharply.
There it was.
Six years of resentment in one sentence.
“Okay,” she said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
He closed his eyes.
“I did.”
Laura was quiet again.
Then she said, “I should’ve come more.”
Mark picked at the tape on a box.
“Yes.”
“You could’ve asked.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
“No.”
Neither apologized immediately.
That helped.
Eventually Laura said, “What does Mom need?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“You find out.”
“I will.”
May you like
Two days later Laura booked a flight.
Eleanor complained that everyone was treating her like a committee project.
