I stood up from the porch chair.
My coffee was cold, and the pink notebook was still on the table.
I picked up the little hammer-shaped key ring and slipped it into my purse.
Then I looked at Hugh.
"Would you mind helping me with the last few boxes?"
He nodded.
"Of course."
Marlee didn't move.
She was still holding the printed house rules.
I couldn't tell whether she was angry or embarrassed.
Maybe both.
I walked toward the end of the porch and looked down the street.
Mr. Crenshaw was sitting in his truck.
His newspaper crossword was folded on the passenger seat.
When he noticed me, he lowered the pencil in his hand.
I raised one hand.
That was the signal.
He closed the crossword and started the engine.
A few seconds later, his flatbed came around the corner.
Hugh watched it approach.
"That's Mr. Crenshaw?"
"Yes."
He looked at the furniture strapped down in the back.
"He's already got your things?"
"Most of them."
The truck stopped in front of the house.
Mr. Crenshaw climbed down carefully.
He wore his usual work shirt and a pair of old boots.
"Morning, everybody."
I smiled.
"Morning, Mr. Crenshaw."
He looked at Hugh.
Then at Marlee.
He didn't ask any questions.
I appreciated that.
He had promised to help me move, and he was there to do exactly that.
"Everything ready, Tressie?"
"Just about."
He nodded toward the front door.
"Anything else you need loaded?"
I pointed toward two boxes near the dining table.
"Those are the last ones."
Hugh stepped forward.
"I'll get them."
Mr. Crenshaw moved aside.
I watched my son carry the first box.
It was a small one containing kitchen towels and a few things from the bathroom.
He carried it carefully.
Then he returned for the second.
That box held some of my books.
I had marked the side with a black pen.
BOOKS.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing expensive.
But they were mine.
Marlee remained on the porch.
After a moment, she followed Hugh inside.
I heard them talking quietly.
I couldn't make out the words.
I didn't try.
Mr. Crenshaw stood beside me.
"Everything all right?"
I looked at him.
"Yes."
He studied my face for a second.
Then he nodded.
"Good."
That was all.
I had known him for many years.
He wasn't a man who needed every detail before deciding whether somebody deserved help.
He had seen me buying furnace filters when my husband was alive.
He had seen me coming into the store after long hospital shifts.
He knew I was used to handling my own affairs.
He didn't treat me like I had suddenly become helpless because I was seventy-four.
That meant more than he probably realized.
Hugh came outside again.
He placed the last box near the flatbed.
Then he looked at me.
"Do you want us to help unload everything at the apartment?"
I hadn't expected the question.
I looked toward Mr. Crenshaw.
He answered before I could.
"We can manage the heavy pieces. There's room upstairs, and I've got a hand truck."
Hugh nodded.
"All right."
Marlee came out carrying the plastic sleeve.
She had folded the printed rules in half.
I looked at the paper.
Then at her.
"Are you taking that back home?"
She glanced down.
"Yes."
I didn't say anything else.
She put it inside her purse.
I wondered whether she would keep it.
I wondered whether she would throw it away.
It wasn't important anymore.
The notebook was still on my porch table.
I picked it up and held it for a moment.
I considered giving it back.
Then I thought better of it.
I didn't want to use it as a weapon.
I didn't want to keep it as a reminder of something I never wanted to experience again.
But I also wasn't ready to pretend it hadn't mattered.
So I slipped it into my purse.
Hugh watched me.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
I smiled a little.
"I think so."
He looked toward the flatbed.
Then he looked back at the house.
I knew he was trying to understand why everything had happened so quickly.
For him, it probably seemed sudden.
For me, it had been building for days.
Maybe longer.
I had simply reached the point where I couldn't keep ignoring it.
Mr. Crenshaw opened the passenger door of his truck.
"Ready when you are, Tressie."
I turned toward my son.
"I'll call you when I'm settled."
He nodded.
"Okay."
Marlee stood behind him.
Neither of them said anything.
I walked to the truck.
Before climbing in, I looked back at the duplex.
The porch.
The front window.
The place where my husband and I had spent twenty-two years.
I felt the sadness come.
It was real.
But it wasn't the same sadness I had felt when I first thought I might have to live above Hugh's garage.
That sadness had come with fear.
This one came with memories.
I climbed into the truck.
Mr. Crenshaw shut the door gently.
Then we pulled away.
I didn't look back again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Two Keys Opened a Small Apartment Above the Hardware Store, and for the First Time in Days I Could Breathe
My Son Offered Me a Place to Live, but the Price He Put on My Independence Was Something I Never Expected
Part 9 of 20
