The first week in the apartment passed quickly.
I was still adjusting to the extra space.
I kept finding places to put things.
The kitchen had enough cabinets that I didn't have to stack everything on top of everything else.
Danny's bedroom stayed surprisingly tidy.
He arranged his dinosaurs by size.
His books had their own shelf.
His blue blanket was always folded at the foot of his bed, even though he sometimes pulled it down during the night.
I enjoyed watching him.
He seemed happier.
Not because we had expensive furniture or a fancy address.
Because he finally had something that felt like his.
I was beginning to settle into the new routine when my father called.
He asked whether he could visit.
I looked around the living room.
I had just finished cleaning.
There were still a few boxes near the wall, but most of the apartment was organized.
I asked him why he wanted to come.
He said he wanted to see how we were doing.
I didn't immediately agree.
Then I remembered that he was Danny's grandfather.
I didn't want to make decisions about that relationship while I was still upset.
So I gave him a time.
Saturday afternoon.
He arrived shortly after two.
I opened the door.
He stood there holding a small bag.
"Hi, Lydia."
"Hi, Dad."
He looked past me into the apartment.
Then he stepped inside.
He examined the living room.
The dining table.
The kitchen.
He seemed uncomfortable.
I offered him something to drink.
He declined.
Then he asked where Danny was.
"In his room."
My father looked toward the hallway.
"Can I see him?"
I nodded.
Danny came running out a moment later.
"Grandpa!"
My father smiled and bent down to hug him.
He gave Danny a small toy.
Danny thanked him.
Then he immediately started explaining where his dinosaurs lived.
My father followed him toward the bedroom.
I stayed in the living room.
I could hear Danny talking.
He explained the shelf.
The blue blanket.
The place where he wanted to put another bookcase.
My father asked a few questions.
Then everything became quiet.
I walked toward the doorway.
My father was standing beside Danny's bed.
He was looking at the room.
Not at the furniture.
At the room itself.
The empty space near the window.
The closet.
The little shelf.
Danny was smiling.
"Grandpa, this is my room."
My father nodded.
"It's very nice."
Danny pointed toward the window.
"I can see the street."
My father looked outside.
Then he looked down.
I saw his expression change.
He knew.
He knew what this room meant.
He knew that before this apartment, Danny had slept behind a curtain.
He knew how small our rental had been.
And he knew that the apartment had been purchased for us before Emma moved into it.
My father walked back into the living room.
I followed him.
He sat down.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
"I should have handled things differently."
I remained standing.
"Yes."
He looked at me.
"I know you're angry."
I didn't answer.
He rubbed his hands together.
"Linda thought Emma needed the apartment."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did you think so too?"
He looked away.
"I thought it would be temporary."
I sat across from him.
"You knew Margaret bought it for me."
"Yes."
"You knew I didn't have the keys."
"Yes."
"And you let Emma move in."
He lowered his head.
"Yes."
There it was.
Three answers.
Three admissions.
I waited for him to say something that might help me understand.
Instead, he started explaining how difficult things had been at home.
Emma was worried about school.
Linda was concerned about her future.
There had been arguments about money.
He said he wanted to avoid another family disagreement.
I listened.
Then I asked him something I had been thinking about since Christmas.
"Did you ever ask yourself what Danny and I needed?"
He didn't answer.
I continued.
"Did you think about where we were living?"
He looked at me.
"I knew you were managing."
I shook my head.
"That's exactly the problem, Dad."
He seemed confused.
I explained that being able to pay rent didn't mean I didn't need help.
Working long shifts didn't mean I had unlimited energy.
Raising Danny alone didn't mean I didn't deserve something better.
He listened.
But I couldn't tell whether he understood.
Then he asked whether I would consider letting Emma visit the apartment.
I stared at him.
He quickly added that he wasn't asking for her to move back in.
He said she missed the place.
I looked at him for a long moment.
"That apartment is our home now."
He nodded.
"I understand."
I wasn't sure he did.
Before leaving, he walked toward Danny's bedroom again.
Danny was sitting on the floor with his dinosaurs.
My father watched him for a few seconds.
Then he said goodbye.
At the door, he turned toward me.
"I hope we can fix this."
I didn't promise him anything.
I simply said I needed time.
After he left, I closed the door.
Danny came out of his room.
"Is Grandpa coming back?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
He nodded and returned to his dinosaurs.
I stood in the hallway.
I was glad my father had visited.
But I was no longer willing to confuse a visit with an apology.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Linda Wanted Everyone to Forget the Christmas Dinner, but the Letters Made It Impossible for Me to Pretend Nothing Had Happened
I Had Spent My Whole Life Being Called Independent, Until One Small Thank-You Made Everyone at Christmas Dinner Stop Talking
Part 13 of 20
