Nobody spoke for a moment.
The plastic sleeve was still on my lap.
The pink notebook sat on the little table.
Marlee looked at it as if she wished it would disappear.
Hugh leaned forward.
"Where did you get that?"
"Under the passenger seat of my car."
I looked at Marlee.
"After you took the children to the dentist."
She swallowed.
"I must have dropped it."
I nodded.
"That's what I figured."
Hugh reached toward it.
"Can I see?"
I let him pick it up.
He turned it over.
He looked at the flowered cover.
Then he opened the first page.
I watched his face.
He didn't say anything.
He read for a few seconds.
Then he turned another page.
Marlee sat very still.
I could hear the refrigerator humming inside the house.
Hugh closed the notebook.
"What is this?"
I looked at him.
"That's what I was wondering."
Marlee reached for it.
"Give it back."
Hugh held it for another moment.
Then he placed it on the table.
I didn't touch it.
I wanted both of them to understand that I hadn't brought it out by accident.
Marlee looked at me.
"Those were just private notes."
I nodded.
"I understand."
"They weren't meant for you."
I looked at her.
"I understand that, too."
She shifted in her chair.
"They were just reminders."
I waited.
She didn't continue.
Hugh picked up the notebook again.
"What kind of reminders?"
Marlee looked toward him.
"Nothing important."
He opened it.
I could see him trying to make sense of the pages.
I didn't explain them for her.
She had written them.
She knew what they said.
I remembered the afternoon I had first found the notebook.
I remembered sitting on the porch steps.
My hands shaking.
My purse beside me.
The little pink cover resting against my knees.
I had read those pages because I thought I was looking at something ordinary.
Instead, I had found notes about how to approach me.
How to handle conversations.
How to talk to me.
I hadn't known what to call the feeling that came afterward.
Now I did.
It was humiliation.
Not because I had done something wrong.
Because I had been treated like somebody whose responses needed to be planned.
Hugh looked at Marlee.
"Why were you writing things about Mama?"
She shook her head.
"I wasn't doing anything bad."
I kept my hands folded.
"I didn't say you were."
Marlee looked at me.
"Then why are you making such a big deal out of it?"
I took a breath.
"Because I was already worried about the arrangement. Then I found a notebook that made me feel even less comfortable."
She opened her mouth.
I continued before she could answer.
"I don't know what you intended when you wrote those things. I can't tell you what you were thinking."
I paused.
"But I know how it made me feel."
Hugh put the notebook down.
He looked tired.
"Mama, we were trying to help you."
I nodded.
"I know you say that."
"We thought this would be easier for everybody."
I looked at him.
"Did you ask yourself whether it would be easier for me?"
He didn't answer.
Marlee crossed her arms.
"We're giving you a place to stay."
I looked toward the driveway.
The trailer was still attached to Hugh's truck.
The printed rules were beside my coffee.
I could see the entire arrangement laid out in front of me.
A room.
A payment.
A list of restrictions.
And three children who would need me every weekday.
I turned back toward her.
"I appreciate that you offered."
She seemed surprised.
"But I don't want to live there."
Her expression tightened.
Hugh looked up.
"What?"
"I don't want the room above the garage."
Marlee blinked.
"But we already prepared it."
I nodded.
"I know."
"We bought things for the space."
I didn't know what things she meant.
I didn't ask.
Hugh stepped closer.
"Mama, where are you going to go?"
I reached into my purse.
I took out the two keys.
The little hammer-shaped ring rested in my palm.
"I've rented an apartment."
Silence.
I placed the keys on the table.
Hugh stared at them.
Marlee looked from the keys to me.
"An apartment?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Above Mr. Crenshaw's hardware store."
Hugh frowned.
"Mr. Crenshaw?"
I nodded.
"He had a place available."
Marlee sat back.
"When did you do that?"
"A few days ago."
Hugh looked genuinely hurt.
"You signed a lease without telling me?"
I looked at him.
"Yes."
He shook his head.
I knew he was upset.
I had expected that.
But I also knew that if I had told them before signing, they might have tried to talk me out of it.
And I wasn't sure I would have been strong enough to refuse.
I looked at the keys again.
For once, I had something in my hand that didn't belong to anybody else.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: I Told My Son About the Apartment I Had Chosen, and His First Question Was Not Whether I Was Happy
My Son Offered Me a Place to Live, but the Price He Put on My Independence Was Something I Never Expected
Part 7 of 20
