Todd didn't close the legal pad.
Instead, he turned another page.
I noticed that the handwriting changed.
The earlier pages had been neat.
This one looked as though he had written it in a hurry.
There were several crossed-out sentences.
At the top, he had written something about responsibility.
I leaned closer.
"What's this page?"
Todd looked uncomfortable.
"It's the part I wasn't sure I should include."
Michelle turned toward him.
"You need to tell her."
He nodded.
Then he looked at me.
"When you told Michelle you had found another place, we argued."
I wasn't surprised.
"About what?"
"About the offer."
Michelle looked down.
Todd continued.
"She said you were upset because of the money."
I looked at my daughter.
"Was I wrong?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Todd took a breath.
"I told her that the arrangement was reasonable."
I looked at the paper.
He had written that sentence too.
Reasonable.
It appeared more than once.
Then he continued.
"Michelle asked me whether I would want my own mother living under those conditions."
I looked at her.
She hadn't told me that.
Todd rubbed his hands together.
"I didn't have an answer."
The room became quiet.
I could hear the kitchen clock ticking.
Michelle spoke.
"I kept thinking about you sitting at our table."
She wiped her cheek.
"I remembered the way you folded the paper."
I looked at my handbag.
I still had the original sheet.
"I thought you were considering it," she continued.
"I was."
She looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Yes."
I didn't want to pretend otherwise.
For a short time, I had considered accepting.
Not because I wanted the room.
Because I wanted the family.
I wanted to make things easy for Michelle.
I wanted to see Sadie every morning.
I wanted to believe that the arrangement would somehow become something kinder once I moved in.
But I had also known that I would spend every month watching my bank balance.
And every week counting the days I was expected to babysit.
Michelle looked at Todd.
"He told me he had written everything down because he thought it would make things clearer."
Todd nodded.
"I thought it was practical."
"Then what changed?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Your new house."
I waited.
"After I saw your Buick there, I realized you had gone ahead without us."
I didn't understand.
"Why did that surprise you?"
He looked down.
"Because I thought we were giving you the only sensible option."
I sat very still.
He continued.
"I thought you'd need us."
I looked at him.
"I did need somewhere to live."
He nodded.
"But you found it yourself."
"Yes."
He stared at the table.
I could see that he was struggling to say something.
Finally, he spoke.
"I think I confused needing help with needing us to make the decisions."
I didn't answer.
That sentence deserved a moment.
Michelle reached for a tissue.
"I was angry when I found out about the house."
"I know."
"I thought you were choosing strangers over us."
I looked at her.
"That wasn't what I was doing."
She nodded.
"I understand that now."
I hoped she did.
Because I had never wanted to choose between my daughter and my dignity.
I wanted both.
I wanted to be able to visit her without feeling that I owed her something.
I wanted to help with the children because I loved them.
Not because a number on a piece of paper required it.
Todd pointed to the legal pad.
"There's one more thing."
I looked down.
At the bottom of the page was a short paragraph.
He had written that he understood the original arrangement had placed too many obligations on me.
He had also written that he wanted to apologize for presenting it as though the terms had already been decided.
I read it slowly.
Then I looked at him.
"Why didn't you say this before?"
He gave a small, unhappy smile.
"I thought I was right."
It was an honest answer.
And perhaps that was why I didn't immediately reject it.
I had been wrong before.
I had made decisions that hurt people.
I had said things I wished I could take back.
But an apology mattered most when somebody understood what they had done.
"Do you still think $800 was fair?" I asked.
Todd shook his head.
"No."
"Do you still expect four days of babysitting?"
"No."
I turned toward Michelle.
"What about you?"
She shook her head too.
"I don't want you to feel obligated."
I looked at her for a long moment.
Then I asked something else.
"Would you still want me around if I couldn't babysit?"
Her face changed.
"Of course, Mom."
I nodded.
"Then that's what I need."
She began crying again.
I reached across the table and touched her hand.
I wasn't ready to pretend everything was fine.
But I wasn't going to push her away either.
Todd closed the legal pad halfway.
Then he stopped.
"There was another reason I wanted to come tonight."
I looked at him.
He glanced toward Michelle.
She nodded again.
He opened the pad to the final page.
There were only a few lines written there.
The handwriting was smaller.
I could see my name.
Judy.
And underneath it, a sentence that made me stop.
Todd watched my face.
"I wanted you to know that the original offer was my idea."
I looked at him.
He continued.
"I don't want Michelle carrying the blame for something I decided."
Michelle shook her head.
"Todd, we both agreed to it."
"I know. But I started it."
I looked at both of them.
For the first time that evening, I saw them sitting together without trying to defend the same position.
They were uncomfortable.
They were embarrassed.
But they were listening.
And that was something.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: I Finally Told My Daughter What I Needed From Her, and It Had Nothing to Do With Money, a Basement Room, or Four Days of Work
My Daughter Had a Price for Giving Her Widowed Mother a Place to Sleep, and I Had to Decide What My Years Were Worth
Part 7 of 20
