That evening, my sister called.
She usually called around the same time.
We had been doing that for years.
Sometimes we talked about the weather.
Sometimes we talked about the grandchildren.
Sometimes we didn't have much to say, but we stayed on the phone anyway.
That night, I almost didn't answer.
The pink notebook was still on the kitchen table.
I had moved it twice.
Once to make room for my coffee.
Then again because I couldn't stand looking at it while I tried to eat.
I finally picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"How are you doing, Tressie?"
"All right."
She paused.
"You don't sound all right."
I sat down.
I had been carrying the notebook around in my thoughts for hours.
I needed somebody to hear what I had found.
So I told her.
I explained that Marlee had borrowed my Chevrolet to take the children to the dentist.
I told her about finding the little spiral notebook beneath the passenger seat.
I described the pink cover with the flowers.
Then I told her what was inside.
My sister didn't interrupt.
She listened while I explained that the pages contained notes about how to speak to me.
I opened the notebook.
I read from the first page.
My voice became quieter as I went along.
I could hear my sister breathing on the other end.
When I finished, neither of us spoke for a few seconds.
Then she said my name.
"Tressie."
I looked at the notebook.
"What?"
"Please be careful."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Careful about what?"
"You know what I mean."
I didn't answer.
She continued.
"Hugh is still your son."
I closed my eyes.
"I know that."
"Whatever you do, don't throw that notebook in their faces."
I looked down at the pink cover.
I hadn't told her I was planning to do anything with it.
But she knew me well enough to understand that I wasn't going to pretend I hadn't found it.
"Why not?"
"Because he'll never forgive you for embarrassing him."
I let out a slow breath.
I wanted to tell her that I was the one who had been embarrassed.
I wanted to explain that I was the one being asked to pay seven hundred dollars for a room that barely had a window.
I wanted to remind her that I was also expected to watch three children every weekday.
But I didn't say all of that.
She already knew most of it.
Instead, I asked a question.
"Do you think I'm wrong for wanting somewhere of my own?"
There was a pause.
"No."
"Then why should I feel guilty?"
My sister sighed.
"Families are complicated."
I knew that.
I had lived long enough to understand that families could love each other and still cause terrible hurt.
But I was tired of using that fact to excuse everything.
I looked at the notebook again.
For days, I had been telling myself that I should be grateful Hugh and Marlee had offered me somewhere to stay.
I had repeated that thought so many times that I had almost convinced myself.
But gratitude wasn't supposed to mean giving away every choice.
It wasn't supposed to mean spending most of my Social Security check on a room I didn't want.
And it wasn't supposed to mean working five days a week without anybody considering what that work would cost me.
I picked up the notebook.
My sister was still talking.
"Tressie, I just don't want you to lose Hugh over this."
I swallowed.
"Maybe he needs to understand why I'm doing it."
She didn't respond immediately.
I could tell she wasn't pleased.
Then I said something I had been thinking for most of the day.
"Maybe he'll be angry. But I'm finished paying people to make me feel unwanted."
The words came out quietly.
No shouting.
No tears.
Just the truth.
My sister didn't argue after that.
We talked for a few more minutes.
Then we said goodbye.
I placed the phone on the table.
The house was quiet again.
I looked at the pink notebook.
I knew I couldn't keep it hidden somewhere and pretend it hadn't happened.
I also knew I didn't want to spend the rest of my life explaining why I deserved a little privacy.
So I put it in the pocket of my apron.
I wore that apron most days when I was packing.
It had a small pocket in the front, just large enough for a pen or a folded grocery receipt.
The notebook fit inside.
I checked that it was secure.
Then I went back to the boxes.
I packed my dishes first.
The plates had belonged to me for years.
Some had small scratches.
One had a chip along the edge.
I wrapped each one separately.
I didn't want them breaking during the move.
After that, I packed the photograph of my late husband.
I took it off the shelf and wiped the frame with a soft cloth.
His Army uniform was still clear in the picture.
I placed it carefully inside the box.
Then came my good quilt.
I folded it the way I always had.
It had been on our bed for years.
My husband used to pull it up over his shoulders when the nights got cold.
I held it for a moment before putting it away.
There were things I could replace.
A lamp.
A kitchen towel.
A chair.
But there were things I couldn't replace.
I wanted those things with me.
I worked slowly.
I didn't have the energy to carry heavy boxes all day.
Whenever my knees began hurting, I sat down.
Sometimes I drank water.
Sometimes I looked at the empty spaces where furniture used to be.
The pink notebook stayed in my apron pocket.
I could feel it whenever I moved.
It reminded me why I had made the decision.
It also reminded me that I still hadn't told Hugh.
That part troubled me.
I wasn't proud of keeping the new apartment a secret.
I knew he might feel hurt when he discovered it.
I knew Marlee might accuse me of going behind their backs.
But I had spent enough time being afraid of their reactions.
For once, I wanted to make a decision without waiting for permission.
Thursday came.
I was in the kitchen when the phone rang.
Marlee.
Her voice sounded unusually cheerful.
"Mama, I just wanted to check on you."
"I'm doing fine."
"Good. We're all set for Saturday."
I stopped folding the dish towel in my hands.
"Saturday?"
"Yes. We'll come over at nine with the trailer."
I looked toward the boxes.
She continued before I could answer.
"I even printed out the house rules so everything will be clear when you arrive."
I held the towel still.
"House rules?"
She laughed lightly.
"Oh, just little things. Nothing serious."
I waited.
"Quiet after eight. No cooking smells in the garage. Things like that."
I looked at the window.
I could see my reflection in the glass.
I didn't know what expression I was making.
"That's very considerate of you," I said.
Marlee seemed pleased.
"I just want everybody to get along."
"Of course."
"And the kids will be so excited to have you there."
I didn't answer that part.
She continued talking about Saturday.
She mentioned the trailer.
She mentioned bringing the children.
She sounded as if everything had already been decided.
As if my agreement was only a formality.
When the conversation ended, I placed the phone on the counter.
I stood there for a moment.
Then I reached into my apron pocket.
I took out the little pink notebook.
I opened it carefully.
The handwriting was still there.
The same small letters.
The same pages.
I closed it and put it back in my pocket.
Saturday was two days away.
I had already signed a lease.
I had already arranged for my belongings to be moved.
And I had no intention of climbing those outside stairs with my dishes and my quilt.
I wasn't going to argue about the hot plate.
I wasn't going to negotiate over cooking smells.
I wasn't going to agree to five days of childcare in exchange for permission to sleep above a garage.
I had another place to go.
A place with two rooms and a little kitchen.
A place with proper windows.
A place where the keys belonged to me.
I finished folding the towel.
Then I looked around the duplex one more time.
It was almost empty now.
The furniture was ready.
The boxes were marked.
My husband's photograph was packed safely.
I had spent twenty-two years making that little duplex a home.
I was sad to leave it.
But I was no longer frightened of what came next.
Not completely.
There was still Hugh.
There was still Marlee.
And there was still the notebook.
I knew Saturday would be difficult.
I also knew I couldn't keep avoiding the truth.
I slipped the notebook into my apron pocket again and went back to packing.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: Saturday Morning Arrived, and I Put on My Best Cardigan Before Making a Decision My Son Never Expected
My Son Offered Me a Place to Live, but the Price He Put on My Independence Was Something I Never Expected
Part 4 of 20
