PART 13 – The Next Morning Gerald Expected to Find Suitcases by the Door, but I Was Still Living in the House We Had Built

I woke up before Gerald the following morning.

For a few seconds, I forgot about the divorce.

Then I remembered the dinner.

The brown envelope.

The forty-eight hours.

I lay still and listened to the house.

There was no sound from downstairs.

I got dressed and went to the kitchen.

Gerald was already there.

He was standing beside the counter, drinking coffee.

He glanced at me.

"I thought you'd have started packing."

I opened the cupboard and took out a cup.

"I haven't."

He looked at me for a moment.

"Teresa, we need to get this settled."

I poured my coffee.

"I agree."

He seemed surprised by my answer.

"Then why aren't you doing anything?"

I placed the coffee pot back.

"Because I haven't agreed to leave under the conditions you gave me."

He shook his head.

"This doesn't need to become a fight."

I looked at him.

"You keep saying that, but you were the one who announced everything without speaking to me first."

He took another drink.

I could tell he didn't like hearing it.

For years, Gerald had been accustomed to having me smooth over difficult conversations.

If someone was upset, I tried to understand why.

If a disagreement lasted too long, I looked for a way to settle it.

I had done that at home and at the company.

He seemed to expect the same thing now.

But I wasn't going to make his decision comfortable simply because he wanted it to be.

I sat at the kitchen table.

He remained standing.

"Have you told anyone about this?" he asked.

I looked up.

"No."

"Good. There's no reason to involve other people."

I noticed the way he said that.

Good.

As though my silence was another part of the arrangement.

I didn't answer.

He picked up his keys.

"I'm going to the office."

I nodded.

He stopped near the doorway.

"Think carefully about what I've offered."

"I have."

Then he left.

I heard the front door close.

I sat with my coffee.

The house felt different when Gerald wasn't in it.

Not peaceful.

Just different.

I looked toward the dining room.

The tablecloth had been put away.

There were no almonds on it.

But I could still picture the moment Gerald announced the divorce.

I wondered how many times he had rehearsed that conversation.

I wondered whether Walter had helped him prepare the envelope.

I wondered why they believed I would accept everything without asking about the blue binder.

I didn't have answers.

I wasn't going to make them up.

I only knew what had happened.

I had been given two days to leave.

I had signed an acknowledgment.

I had not accepted the settlement.

And I remembered the Friday afternoon when both men signed other papers.

I finished my coffee.

Then I washed the cup.

This time, I did it because I wanted to.

Not because someone had left it for me.

Later, I went into the dining room and stood beside the table.

I touched the edge of the wooden surface.

I remembered Naomi sitting there as a child.

I remembered family meals.

I remembered Walter asking for the potatoes.

I remembered Gerald bringing me coffee when we were young.

So many ordinary moments.

It was strange to think that the person who had shared them with me could now speak as though I had merely been visiting.

I walked back toward the kitchen.

I wasn't packing that morning.

I wasn't signing anything else.

And I wasn't going to pretend that forty years could be dismissed in one conversation.

Click here to continue reading: PART 14: When Walter Tried to Remind Me Who Owned the House, I Asked Him to Remember Who Had Helped Hold the Family Together