The repayment plan arrived in an envelope.
Kevin had dropped it through the mail slot.
I found it on the floor near the front door.
I carried it to the kitchen table.
My hands were steady as I opened it.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Kevin had written his name at the bottom.
He listed the thirty-two hundred dollars he had received from selling the sedan.
He proposed paying me back in monthly installments.
The amounts were small.
But they were specific.
There was a date beside each payment.
I read the page twice.
Then I called him.
He answered quickly.
"Hi, Mom."
"I received your letter."
"Okay."
"Thank you for writing it down."
He sounded relieved.
"I thought that would be easier."
I agreed.
Then I asked whether he understood that I expected him to follow the schedule.
He said yes.
I told him I wasn't interested in arguing every month.
I simply wanted him to do what he had promised.
"I will, Mom."
I didn't tell him I believed him.
I told him I hoped he would.
There was a difference.
We spoke briefly about my health.
Then he asked whether I wanted him to visit.
I said he could come on Sunday afternoon.
He arrived as promised.
He brought a small bouquet of flowers.
They were inexpensive.
But they were pretty.
I placed them in a glass vase.
Then we sat in the living room.
Kevin looked around.
He noticed the new locks.
He didn't comment.
He asked whether I had been sleeping better.
I told him I had.
Then he said something I wasn't expecting.
"I've been thinking about Dad."
I looked at him.
"What about him?"
"About the way he handled money."
I waited.
Kevin said Walt had always been careful.
He remembered his father keeping records.
He remembered the notebook.
He even remembered the old habit of putting things aside for emergencies.
I nodded.
"Your father believed in being prepared."
Kevin looked down.
"I guess I didn't learn enough from him."
I didn't answer.
Perhaps he was beginning to understand.
Perhaps he was simply feeling guilty.
I didn't know.
He continued.
"I shouldn't have sold your car."
I looked at him.
"No, you shouldn't have."
He nodded.
"I was wrong."
Those three words were more meaningful than all the explanations he had given me.
I didn't rush to forgive him.
I didn't tell him everything was fine.
Instead, I said I appreciated his honesty.
He looked at the flowers.
Then he asked whether I had forgiven him.
I thought carefully.
"I love you, Kevin. But I'm still hurt."
He nodded.
I continued.
"Forgiving you doesn't mean pretending it didn't happen."
"I understand."
"And it doesn't mean you can make decisions about my belongings."
He agreed.
We sat quietly for a moment.
Then he asked whether I would ever consider letting him have another house key.
I looked at him.
"Not right now."
He didn't argue.
That was something.
Before leaving, he helped move a small box from the hallway.
He asked whether I needed anything else.
I told him I was fine.
He hugged me at the door.
It was an awkward hug.
But I returned it.
After he left, I placed the flowers on the kitchen table.
I looked at the written repayment plan.
Then I put it inside my folder.
I had no idea whether Kevin would make every payment.
I hoped he would.
But I had stopped depending on promises.
The following week, I received the first payment.
It was a small transfer.
But it arrived on the date he had written.
I checked my account.
Then I printed the confirmation.
I placed it beside the repayment plan.
I didn't call him immediately.
I wanted to acknowledge it.
But I also didn't want to make a great celebration out of something he should have done in the first place.
That evening, I sent him a short message.
I told him the payment had arrived.
I thanked him for following through.
He replied that he would continue.
I put the phone down.
For the first time in a long while, I felt that perhaps we could build something better.
Not the old relationship.
Something more honest.
Something with boundaries.
And something that didn't require me to pretend.
Click here to continue reading: PART 20: I Lost My Car, Recovered Walt’s Savings, and Learned That Being a Mother Did Not Mean I Had to Give Away My Last Piece of Security
I Came Home From Three Weeks of Recovery and Found an Empty Driveway Where My Car Had Always Been
Part 19 of 20
