Part 2
Lauren pushed the bedroom door open without waiting.
“Are we finished?”
Daniel stepped back from me.
I stayed beside the dresser.
“No,” I said.
Lauren looked at him instead.
“Your mom wants an explanation.”
Daniel’s shoulders tightened.
“I’m giving her one.”
“No. You’re apologizing for something we already discussed.”
I watched his face.
He didn’t correct her.
Lauren walked past me and opened the closet.
“You have more clothes than you wear.”
I looked at her.
She slid one of my dresses aside.
“Four bedrooms. Two living areas. A dining room nobody uses.”
“Lauren.”
Daniel’s voice carried a warning.
She ignored it.
“This house sits half empty every day.”
I waited for Daniel to tell her to stop.
He rubbed his palms together.
“Mom, she’s not completely wrong.”
My eyes went to him.
He swallowed.
“You’re here alone.”
I said nothing.
“You barely use the upstairs.”
Lauren leaned against the closet frame.
“Exactly.”
Daniel looked at me.
“We thought helping family made sense.”
“We?”
His eyes dropped.
Lauren answered.
“Yes. We.”
I looked at Richard’s dresser.
A bottle of perfume stood beside the photograph I kept there.
Lauren reached for the perfume.
Her hand brushed the frame.
It tipped sideways.
She caught it before it fell.
“Oh.”
She set it back crooked.
I wanted to straighten it.
I didn’t move.
Lauren watched me.
“You act like we destroyed the place.”
Daniel looked toward the photograph.
Then away.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
She stepped closer.
“You make everything feel like a crime.”
My throat tightened.
Daniel shifted between us.
“Nobody’s saying that.”
Lauren’s eyes stayed on mine.
“You have space.”
I didn’t answer.
“People needed it.”
Silence stretched.
Daniel finally spoke.
“Mom, can you just give us tonight?”
Lauren turned toward him sharply.
“Tonight?”
Something passed across her face.
Not anger.
Alarm.
Then it disappeared.
I noticed.
I said nothing.
Lauren walked out.
Daniel waited several seconds before following her.
I remained beside the dresser, staring at Richard’s photograph.
It was still crooked.
When I came downstairs, conversations stopped one by one.
Not all at once.
That made it worse.
Lauren stood near the kitchen island with her mother and sister.
Daniel stayed near the stairs.
Nobody made space for me.
I crossed toward the kitchen.
A large pot simmered on my stove.
Three cutting boards covered the counter.
My refrigerator stood open.
“Can I get some water?”
The words left my mouth before I realized what I had asked.
Permission.
In my kitchen.
Lauren’s sister stepped aside.
“Of course.”
Lauren didn’t.
I reached around her for a glass.
She moved half an inch.
“Careful.”
I stopped.
“With what?”
“That one’s for the kids.”
I looked at the plastic pitcher beside my hand.
Then I reached for another.
Nobody spoke.
Lauren’s mother watched me with an uncertain expression.
Lauren took a plate from the counter.
“We already planned dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You always do that.”
I looked at her.
“Do what?”
“Make people uncomfortable without actually saying anything.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
I saw it.
Lauren raised her voice enough for the room to hear.
“Everybody came here because they’re dealing with real problems.”
One of the men stared at the floor.
A child stopped chewing.
“And now they feel like criminals.”
“I haven’t called anyone a criminal.”
“You don’t have to.”
She looked toward her family.
“They can feel it.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Lauren.”
“No. She should know.”
I held my glass with both hands.
The room felt too small.
Lauren pointed toward the hallway.
“There are kids sleeping here tonight.”
I looked at Daniel.
He avoided my eyes.
“Is that decided too?”
His mouth opened.
Lauren answered first.
“They’re already here.”
I absorbed that.
Then something crashed behind us.
A child stood frozen beside the dining room cabinet.
Richard’s anniversary vase lay shattered across the floor.
Nobody breathed.
The boy’s face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at the pieces.
Lauren reached him first.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
I bent down slowly.
Nobody stopped me.
“Leave it.”
Lauren’s voice came from above me.
I kept gathering the larger pieces.
She crouched beside the boy.
“You’ll cut yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“I meant him.”
I stopped.
The child was crying now.
His mother rushed over and pulled him close.
“He didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
My voice sounded distant.
She looked surprised.
Then relieved.
“Thank you.”
Lauren stood.
“There. See?”
I looked up.
“See what?”
“Accidents happen.”
I placed another piece of glass into my palm.
Daniel moved closer.
“Mom, let me.”
I gave him the pieces.
He carried them toward the trash.
Lauren watched him.
“That vase was old anyway.”
Daniel stopped walking.
I saw his back stiffen.
He didn’t turn around.
I remained on my knees.
Lauren’s mother spoke quietly.
“Lauren.”
“What?”
“That was unnecessary.”
The room shifted.
Lauren looked at her.
For the first time since I returned, somebody had pushed back.
It wasn’t me.
Lauren’s mother stepped closer.
“She’s upset.”
Lauren laughed under her breath.
“She’s always upset when something changes.”
Her mother’s expression hardened.
“That doesn’t make this easy.”
Lauren stared at her.
Then something unexpected happened.
The youngest girl walked over to me.
She held out a folded paper napkin.
“For your hand.”
I looked down.
A thin line of blood crossed my finger.
I hadn’t noticed.
“Thank you.”
She nodded.
Lauren exhaled sharply.
“Can everyone stop acting like this is a funeral?”
The girl stepped back.
Her mother pulled her away.
Daniel returned with the trash can.
He looked at my finger.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
Lauren turned toward the kitchen.
“Dinner’s getting cold.”
Daniel hesitated.
I expected him to stay.
He followed her.
I sat back against the cabinet.
Richard’s vase was gone.
The room slowly began talking again.
Nobody mentioned it.
By eight, my suitcase had disappeared from the hallway.
I stood beside the stairs.
“Where is it?”
Lauren kept folding blankets on the sofa.
“What?”
“My suitcase.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t stop folding.
“I moved it.”
“Where?”
“The garage.”
I looked at Daniel.
He sat at the dining table beside two of Lauren’s relatives.
His eyes lifted.
Then dropped.
“Why is my suitcase in the garage?”
Lauren placed another blanket on the sofa.
“There was no room.”
“In the hallway?”
“People were tripping over it.”
“It was beside the wall.”
She shrugged.
“Now it isn’t.”
I stood still.
Daniel finally rose.
“I’ll get it.”
Lauren looked at him.
“No need.”
“I’ll get it.”
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
Her voice had changed.
Quiet.
Controlled.
He looked at her.
She nodded toward the table.
“Sit down.”
For one second, I expected him to refuse.
He sat.
Something inside my chest went cold.
Lauren returned to the blankets.
“Where am I supposed to sleep?”
Nobody answered immediately.
A woman on the sofa shifted uncomfortably.
Lauren pointed upstairs.
“The small guest room.”
“My things are in there.”
“We moved some.”
I stared at her.
“You moved my things?”
“Just boxes.”
“Where?”
She folded the final blanket.
“Basement.”
I looked at Daniel again.
His face had gone red.
He said nothing.
Lauren walked past me.
“You keep saying this is your house.”
I turned.
“It is.”
She stopped on the first stair.
“Then maybe start acting like someone who understands what the house is actually worth.”
Daniel looked up sharply.
Lauren glanced at him.
Only once.
Then she kept climbing.
I stood beside the staircase with an empty hand.
My suitcase was in the garage.
My boxes were in the basement.
My bedroom belonged to someone else.
Daniel remained seated.
“Mom.”
I looked at him.
He had nothing else to say.
For the first time since walking through my own front door, neither did I.
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