PART 10 – The Bedroom My Sister Had Already Started Planning Was the Same Room I Had Once Believed Would Always Be Mine

Later that morning, David called.

He wanted to make sure I had received the update from the previous evening.

I told him my mother had called.

"Did she ask about the notice?"

"Mostly."

He was quiet.

Then he asked whether I wanted him to respond to any messages from my parents.

I told him to keep everything concerning the property in writing.

I didn't want another emotional conversation turning into an argument about what somebody remembered.

David agreed.

He also reminded me that the legal process had to follow the actual agreement.

I appreciated that.

I wasn't interested in shortcuts.

I wanted everything handled properly.

After the call, I made breakfast for Leo.

He ate a little cereal and some toast.

He asked whether we could go home later.

I told him we would make that decision after I finished a few things.

He accepted the answer.

Children sometimes accept things more easily than adults expect.

That doesn't mean they aren't hurting.

I opened my laptop again.

The camera system showed my parents' house.

Natalie was downstairs.

She was standing near the staircase with her phone in her hand.

Terrence was sitting on the living room sofa.

My father was looking through the documents David had left.

Patricia was nowhere in the frame.

I switched to the upstairs camera.

The bedroom door was open.

The measuring tape Natalie had apparently been using was still visible near the wall.

I stared at it.

It was a small thing.

A simple measuring tape.

But I remembered that room.

I remembered the desk that had once stood near the window.

I remembered the place where I had kept my books.

I remembered sitting on the floor one afternoon while my mother explained that Natalie needed more space.

Even then, I had moved my things without arguing.

I had always been the one expected to adjust.

Now the same pattern had reached my son.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Natalie appeared.

Can we talk?

I read it twice.

Then another message arrived.

You should have told us about the house.

I placed the phone beside the laptop.

I didn't respond.

A few minutes later, another message appeared.

Mom is very upset.

I looked at the words.

My mother had been upset the previous evening, too.

But she hadn't been upset enough to stop my father from sending us outside.

I closed the message.

I had work waiting.

There were client accounts to review and campaigns that needed attention.

I opened my work dashboard.

For a while, I focused on ordinary things.

Numbers.

Reports.

Emails.

It helped.

My life had not stopped because my parents had finally discovered the truth about the property.

I still had responsibilities.

I still had a son who depended on me.

And I still had a business to run.

Click here to continue reading: PART 11: My Father Wanted an Explanation, but I Wanted Him to Remember the Question He Had Answered So Easily the Night Before