A few mornings later, I heard Shawna speaking on the telephone.
She was in the living room.
Her voice sounded different.
More cheerful.
I was making coffee when she came into the kitchen.
She was holding her phone.
"Carla, we have some news."
I turned toward her.
"What's happened?"
She smiled.
"They've been working on the closing. We should have a clearer date soon."
I nodded.
That was good news.
She said they had been waiting for confirmation.
There were still arrangements to finish.
But things were moving forward.
I congratulated her.
She looked relieved.
Then she thanked me again for giving them somewhere to stay.
I told her I was glad they hadn't needed to spend money on a motel.
She nodded.
"We really appreciate it."
I believed her.
Seth came downstairs a few minutes later.
Shawna told him I had heard the update.
He smiled.
"Looks like things are finally moving."
I smiled too.
I was happy for them.
A new house meant a new beginning.
They would have their own rooms again.
The children would have their familiar belongings around them.
Seth and Shawna would have their privacy.
And I would have my quiet evenings back.
But something else occurred to me.
I had been thinking about their move as though it were simply a matter of getting their belongings out of my house.
Now I realized there was something I needed to consider.
How would things be between us afterward?
Would Seth remember what had happened?
Would he return to treating me like somebody whose needs mattered?
Or would we simply put everything away and never discuss it again?
I didn't know.
I decided I wouldn't force an answer.
It would have to show itself in the way we treated each other.
That afternoon, I went into the spare bedroom.
The children's quilt was still spread across the bed.
I folded it carefully.
Then I placed it at the foot of the mattress.
The room looked different without the bags.
I imagined what it would look like once everybody had moved out.
I could put my sewing supplies in there.
Perhaps I could arrange the room so I had more space for fabric.
I had always wanted a proper place to work.
I stood near the dresser.
The little vase that had once held the mums was empty now.
I picked it up and carried it into the kitchen.
Seth appeared in the doorway.
"Are you getting the room ready?"
I looked at him.
"Just straightening things."
He nodded.
"I suppose we'll need to start packing soon."
"Yes."
He looked around.
Then he said something quietly.
"Thanks for letting us stay."
I smiled.
"You're welcome."
He stood there for another moment.
Then he asked whether I needed help moving anything.
I told him I could manage.
He offered again.
This time, I accepted.
He helped me move a small table away from the wall.
It wasn't heavy.
But I appreciated that he had offered.
When we finished, he looked at the sewing machine in the corner.
"Do you remember making my tractor costume?"
I laughed.
"Of course I remember."
He smiled.
"I wish I still had that thing."
I told him I remembered how much he loved it.
He shook his head.
"I probably made you work all night."
I smiled.
"You certainly did."
For a moment, we both laughed.
Then he looked at me.
"Mom, I really am sorry about the rent."
I put my hand on the table.
"I know."
He continued.
"I should have treated you differently."
I nodded.
"Yes, you should have."
He didn't argue.
He simply stood there.
I think that was the first time he had said it without trying to explain why he had done it.
And I appreciated that.
Later, I went outside.
The porch was quiet.
I sat in my chair and looked toward the street.
I remembered the evening he had arrived with his two suitcases.
He had walked up the steps smiling.
He had expected me to make room.
I had almost done what I always did.
I had almost said yes without thinking about myself.
But that little receipt had changed something.
It had reminded me that I could be kind without being taken for granted.
I could open my door without surrendering my independence.
I could love my family and still expect respect.
The sun began to lower.
I heard the front door open behind me.
Seth stepped onto the porch.
He stood beside my chair.
"Mind if I sit?"
I smiled.
"Not at all."
He pulled up another chair.
We sat together.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then he asked whether I was looking forward to having the house quiet again.
I laughed.
"Very much."
He laughed too.
And for the first time, neither of us seemed offended by the truth.
Click here to continue reading: PART 17: My Son Finally Began Packing His Suitcases, but Before He Left, He Asked Me Something I Never Expected
I Thought My Son Was Giving Me a Place to Stay Until He Put a Price on the Guest Room
Part 16 of 20
