The move took several days to organize.
I couldn't simply leave work and carry everything out at once.
I had shifts to complete.
Danny had school.
And I wanted to make sure we didn't forget anything important.
Margaret offered to help.
She also suggested that we hire movers for the larger furniture.
I initially told her we could manage.
She looked at me.
"Lydia."
I stopped.
"You don't have to do everything yourself."
I smiled awkwardly.
It was difficult to accept help without immediately trying to refuse it.
She reminded me that the apartment was a gift.
She wanted me to enjoy it.
Not exhaust myself trying to prove I deserved it.
So I agreed.
We arranged for the larger items to be moved first.
Danny and I visited the apartment again.
This time, he walked inside like he belonged there.
He went straight to the bedroom.
He stood in the middle of the empty room.
Then he turned toward me.
"My bed should go here."
He pointed to the wall near the window.
"Why there?"
"So I can see outside."
I smiled.
"That makes sense."
He moved toward the opposite wall.
"And my dinosaurs can go there."
He pointed to another corner.
"All of them?"
"Yes."
He nodded seriously.
Then he walked toward the closet.
He opened the doors.
"Can my school clothes go here?"
"Of course."
He seemed to be making a complete plan.
I watched him.
There was no hesitation in his movements.
No checking whether he was allowed to touch something.
No asking whether he was taking up too much space.
He was simply being a child in a room that was going to be his.
I sat on the floor.
He came over and sat beside me.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you have your own room too?"
I laughed softly.
"Yes, Danny."
"Good."
He leaned against my arm.
I kissed the top of his head.
I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear him say those things.
We walked through the apartment again.
I checked the kitchen.
I opened the cabinets.
I looked at the windows.
I imagined where the dining table would go.
I wanted a small one.
Nothing fancy.
Just enough room for Danny and me to sit together.
Maybe Margaret could visit.
Maybe we could have breakfast without balancing plates on our knees.
The thought made me smile.
On our way out, I checked the front door.
The lock worked properly.
I turned the key.
Then I turned it again.
I wanted to remember that sound.
The little click.
It meant something now.
A few days later, my father called again.
This time, I answered.
He sounded calmer.
He asked whether we had started moving.
I told him we had.
He asked whether Margaret was helping.
I said yes.
Then he said he hoped I wasn't making a decision based on anger.
I looked at the kitchen table.
There were boxes stacked beside it.
I thought about the apartment documents.
I thought about the false letters.
I thought about Danny's little bedroom.
"I am making a decision based on the fact that the apartment was bought for me."
He didn't respond.
I told him I wasn't trying to punish Emma.
I wasn't trying to hurt Linda.
I simply intended to live in the home that had been given to me.
He said he understood.
I wasn't sure I believed him.
But I didn't argue.
I had no reason to keep repeating myself.
Later, Linda sent another message.
She asked whether we could meet.
She said she wanted to clear the air before the situation became worse.
I read it while standing in the grocery store.
I didn't answer immediately.
I finished buying Danny's food.
I paid.
I returned home.
Then I wrote back that I wasn't ready for a meeting.
I didn't add anything else.
For once, I didn't feel the need to explain my decision.
That evening, Margaret visited.
She brought a small box of kitchen supplies.
A few plates.
Some glasses.
A set of ordinary utensils.
She said she had purchased them because she remembered how little storage space I had in the rental.
I laughed.
"You really thought of everything."
She smiled.
"I tried."
Danny opened the box.
He examined the plates.
Then he asked whether we could use one for breakfast.
I told him we could.
Margaret stayed for dinner.
We sat at the little rental table.
The kitchen was crowded with boxes.
There wasn't much room to move.
But the three of us laughed.
Danny talked about his new bedroom.
Margaret asked what color he wanted.
"Blue."
She nodded.
"Good choice."
After dinner, she helped me wash the dishes.
I looked at her standing beside the sink.
I remembered sitting in her house during chemotherapy.
I remembered the long drives.
The hospital corridors.
The nights I had slept in a chair.
I had never done those things expecting a reward.
I had done them because I loved her.
Now she had given me something I could never have afforded on my own.
A home.
I looked at her.
"Are you happy with how things turned out?"
She dried a plate.
"I would have preferred that you received your gift without all this."
I nodded.
"So would I."
She placed the plate on the counter.
"But I'm glad you know the truth now."
I agreed.
For the first time, I felt that we were moving forward rather than simply reacting to what had happened.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Last Night in Our Rental Made Me Understand That a Home Was More Than Four Walls and a Set of Keys
I Had Spent My Whole Life Being Called Independent, Until One Small Thank-You Made Everyone at Christmas Dinner Stop Talking
Part 11 of 20
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