PART 13 – Three Days After the Moving Truck Left, My Son Finally Called, but His First Question Was Not Whether I Was All Right

Three days passed before Derek called me.

I had expected him to contact me sooner.

Not because I thought he would apologize.

I simply assumed he would want to know what had happened after the deputy left.

Instead, the house remained quiet.

I spent those days doing ordinary things.

I watered the gardenias.

I cleaned the kitchen.

I washed the porch windows and checked the swing chains.

I also reviewed the documents my attorney had asked me to keep together.

The binders stayed on the dining room table.

I didn't put them away.

I wanted to be able to find everything without searching.

On the third afternoon, my phone rang.

Derek.

I looked at his name for several seconds.

Then I answered.

"Hello, sweetheart."

He didn't return the greeting.

"Mom, we need to talk about what happened Saturday."

I sat down.

"All right."

He said Ray and Donna were extremely upset.

He said they had been embarrassed in front of the neighbors.

He said Megan had been crying.

I listened.

He spoke for nearly a minute before mentioning me.

Then he asked why I had brought an attorney and a sheriff to the property.

I looked toward the porch.

"Because you brought a moving truck."

He sighed.

"That's not what I mean."

I asked what he did mean.

He said I could have handled the situation differently.

I waited.

He suggested that I should have spoken to him privately before involving other people.

I almost laughed.

Six years earlier, he had asked me to sign a deed privately.

Two weeks earlier, he had told me I was no longer welcome in my own home.

And now he wanted to discuss privacy.

I kept my voice steady.

"Derek, I did speak to you."

He said I hadn't listened.

I reminded him that I had asked whether he intended to give my house to Megan's parents.

He said he thought the paperwork gave him the right.

I asked whether he had checked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he returned to the loan application.

He said my attorney had misunderstood the situation.

I asked what part was misunderstood.

He said he had been arranging his finances and had included the villa because he believed it would eventually belong to him.

I closed my eyes.

Eventually.

That word explained more than he probably intended.

He hadn't merely thought he could help his in-laws.

He had begun treating my property as something he would inherit and could use before I was gone.

I asked him whether he remembered the conversation six years earlier.

He said he did.

I reminded him that he had told me adding his name would make things easier if I became sick.

He said that was still true.

I asked why he had never recorded the deed.

Silence.

Then he said he didn't know.

I let the silence remain.

Finally, he asked whether I intended to keep the house entirely for myself.

I looked around the kitchen.

The cypress cabinets were catching the afternoon light.

The old wooden table stood where it had always stood.

My home.

"Yes," I said.

He sounded surprised.

"Even after everything?"

I didn't understand what he meant.

He said the family needed to find a solution.

I answered that I had already found mine.

He became frustrated.

He said I was making things difficult for Megan.

I reminded him that Megan had been the one to tell me my name was no longer on the property.

He said she had only been trying to help her parents.

I asked him whether he had told her the truth about the deed.

He didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

We ended the conversation without resolving anything.

I put the phone on the table.

Then I walked outside.

The gardenias needed water.

I filled the watering can and moved slowly along the fence.

I thought about how easily Derek had changed the subject from his actions to my reaction.

It was easier for him to discuss the embarrassment of Saturday than the reason the moving truck had arrived.

I understood that.

I had done the same thing myself for years.

Whenever he disappointed me, I looked for an explanation that made him seem less responsible.

Perhaps he was stressed.

Perhaps he was confused.

Perhaps I hadn't explained myself clearly.

But there comes a point when explanations become another way of avoiding the truth.

I wasn't ready to stop loving my son.

I was ready to stop pretending nothing had happened.

That evening, I put the watering can away.

I checked the porch swing.

Then I went inside and locked the front door.

For the first time, I did it without wondering whether Derek would be offended.

Click here to continue reading: PART 14: The Old Carnations Came Back to Me, Along With the Question I Had Avoided Since My Son First Asked for My Signature