PART 20 – When Derek Asked Whether I Would Ever Trust Him Again, I Realized That an Apology Could Not Undo What He Had Already Done

Derek called me on Sunday evening.

I was sitting in the living room.

The porch lights were on.

A small lamp beside the sofa was casting a warm light across the room.

I answered.

"Hello, sweetheart."

He sounded tired.

"Mom, are you busy?"

"No."

He asked whether he could talk for a few minutes.

I said yes.

At first, he spoke about ordinary things.

He asked how the house was.

He asked whether Tommy had been by.

He asked whether I had been sleeping well.

I answered each question.

Then he became quiet.

I knew something else was coming.

Finally, he said he wanted to apologize for the way Saturday had happened.

I didn't respond immediately.

He said he hadn't intended for things to become so public.

He said he had wanted to help Megan's parents.

He said he had made decisions too quickly.

I listened.

Then he asked whether I understood.

I told him I understood what he was saying.

But I needed him to understand what I had experienced.

He became quiet.

I reminded him of the telephone call.

I reminded him that he had told me the villa belonged to Megan's parents.

I reminded him that he had said I was no longer welcome.

I told him I had never agreed to that.

He said he knew.

I asked why he had believed the old deed gave him the right to make those decisions.

He said he had misunderstood the legal situation.

I asked whether he had ever checked the deed before making promises to Ray and Donna.

He didn't answer.

Then he said he had believed the property would eventually become his.

I closed my eyes.

There it was again.

Eventually.

I asked him whether he understood that I was still alive and still living in the house.

He said yes.

I asked whether he understood that I had spent twenty years building it.

He said he did.

Then I asked whether he understood why I had been hurt.

He answered more softly.

"Yes, Mom."

I wanted to believe him.

But I had heard explanations before.

I needed more than words.

He asked whether I would ever trust him again.

I looked toward the hallway.

The old paint cans were in the garage.

The binders were safe.

The trust documents were secure.

I thought about the day he brought the carnations.

I thought about the signature.

I thought about the loan application.

I thought about the moving truck.

Then I answered.

"Trust takes time, Derek."

He sighed.

"I know."

I continued.

"I love you. But I cannot pretend you didn't do what you did."

He said he understood.

I told him I needed him to respect the property and stop making decisions about it without my permission.

He agreed.

I also told him that the financial matter would continue to be handled through my attorney.

He didn't like hearing that.

But he didn't argue.

We spoke for a few more minutes.

Then he asked whether he could visit sometime.

I told him we could discuss that later.

He said goodnight.

I put the phone down.

I didn't feel victorious.

I didn't feel completely relieved.

I felt tired.

But there was something else.

I had finally said what I needed to say without apologizing for it.

I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

Then I checked the front door.

It was locked.

I went outside for a few minutes.

The swing was waiting.

I sat down and let it move gently.

The Gulf was dark.

A few lights could be seen in the distance.

I thought about the question Derek had asked.

Would I ever trust him again?

I didn't know.

Perhaps someday.

Perhaps not in the same way.

But I knew one thing.

I would never again confuse being a loving mother with giving my son control over everything I had worked to build.

Arthur had tried to teach me that.

Doris had helped me understand it.

And the Saturday morning with the U-Haul had made it impossible to forget.

I stayed outside until the air became cooler.

Then I went inside.

I turned off the kitchen light.

I walked past the coral bedroom.

I checked the windows.

And I went to bed knowing that the house was still mine.

Not because Derek had finally accepted it.

Not because Ray and Donna had found somewhere else to put their furniture.

Because the truth had been documented long before any of them arrived with a moving truck.

Click here to continue reading: PART 21: The House Was Still Mine