PART 5
That night, I sat in my bedroom at Tyler’s house and stared at the ceiling.
I thought about William.
I thought about the years we had spent saving.
The vacations we had skipped.
The investments we had made.
The old car William refused to replace because he said his still ran perfectly.
We hadn’t accumulated our money to impress anyone.
We had built it so that one day, when we were old, we wouldn’t have to ask anyone for permission to live.
And yet here I was.
Paying $900 a month to my own son.
Asking permission to have friends over.
Parking on the street.
Cooking for Barbara.
Buying groceries.
Walking the dog.
And watching my belongings get pushed aside for someone who didn’t even pay rent.
I almost laughed.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
The door opened without a knock.
Jessica.
She looked at the boxes.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“For what?”
“I’m moving.”
Her face changed instantly.
“What?”
“I found a place.”
She stared at me.
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“And you weren’t going to tell us?”
“I am telling you now.”
She crossed her arms.
“Where are you going?”
“Not far.”
“Tyler needs to know.”
“He’ll know.”
She stared at me suspiciously.
“You’re angry.”
“No.”
“Then why are you suddenly moving?”
I looked at her.
“Because I want my own home.”
She rolled her eyes.
“This is because of the rent increase, isn’t it?”
I almost smiled.
“Partly.”
“Tyler was just trying to make things fair.”
I said nothing.
Jessica stepped closer.
“You know, Eleanor, families sometimes have to make sacrifices.”
“I agree.”
“So you understand why we’re increasing your rent.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“What?”
“I understand that you want to increase my rent.”
I zipped another suitcase.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Jessica stared at me.
“You’ve become very difficult lately.”
I stopped packing.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
“You’re spending $900 a month to live here, and you think I’m difficult because I asked why your mother pays nothing?”
“She is my mother.”
“And I’m Tyler’s mother.”
“That isn’t the same.”
I looked at her for several seconds.
“No,” I said quietly.
“It isn’t.”
She seemed satisfied, as though I had finally admitted defeat.
Then she walked away.
I waited until the door closed.
Then I whispered to myself,
“Not anymore.”
The following morning, Tyler finally noticed something was wrong.
He came downstairs while I was making coffee.
“Mom, Jess said you’re moving.”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because I found a home.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“This is ridiculous.”
I turned around.
“Why?”
“Because you already live here.”
“I know.”
“We’ve made arrangements around you being here.”
I almost laughed.
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Like charging me rent?”
“Mom…”
“Like raising it to $1,200?”
“That was because expenses have increased.”
“Like giving Barbara a private suite?”
He became quiet.
“She’s family.”
I nodded.
“And what am I?”
He sighed.
“Don’t start this again.”
“I asked you a question.”
“You’re my mother.”
“Then why doesn’t that count?”
He looked irritated.
“Because Barbara isn’t supposed to be contributing financially right now.”
“She has more money than I do.”
That stopped him.
He stared at me.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
His expression changed.
“How?”
I smiled.
“You’d be surprised what people say when they think you’re not listening.”
He became defensive.
“Mom, this isn’t about money.”
“Then what is it about?”
He had no answer.
I took my coffee and walked toward the stairs.
Behind me, he called out.
“You’re really going to leave?”
I turned.
“Yes.”
“But where will you go?”
“My new house.”
He laughed nervously.
“You bought a house?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
I looked at him.
“With my money.”
His smile disappeared.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Mom, you sold the condo.”
“I know.”
“So where did you get enough money for another house?”
I stared at him.
“Tyler, I’ve never been poor.”
He didn’t speak.
For the first time, I saw something unfamiliar in his eyes.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Fear.
I walked upstairs.
And I closed my bedroom door.
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