Linda looked at me. I nodded.
“It’s okay. Let him in.”
We sat in her small living room while Linda remained nearby, a silent guardian. Daniel did not know where to begin. He ran his hands through his hair. Bit his lip. Finally he said:
“I didn’t know the house was in your name.”
“I know.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
That question, that damned question.
“I did tell you, Daniel. For the first six months, I reminded you every two weeks. Son, we need to go to the notary to do the transfer. Do you remember what you said?”
He looked down.
“Later, Mom. We’re really busy with the move right now. Next week, Mom. There’s no rush, Mom. We’re family after all.”
“I…” He stopped.
“And then you stopped responding, and I stopped asking. Because a part of me, the wise part that survived forty-two years of marriage, knew I might need that protection.”
“Protection from me? Your own son?”
“From the situation,” I corrected. “From becoming what I became, a domestic servant in my own house.”
Daniel covered his face with his hands.
“I never wanted you to feel that way.”
“But I did. Every day for three years.”
“Emily… she can be harsh sometimes, but she’s not a bad person.”
“Daniel, do you know how much your mother invested in that house?”
He swallowed.
“The deeds say $136,800.”
“Exactly. Do you know where that money came from?”
He hesitated.
“From the sale of the house in the suburbs.”
“From the sale of the house where your father and I lived for forty-two years. Where we raised you. Where we celebrated every birthday. Where your father died in my bed holding my hand.” My voice cracked. “I sold my memories, Daniel. I sold the last piece of your father I had left. And I did it for you.”
Daniel started to cry, real tears, heavy ones.
“Mom…”
“Do you know how much you paid for the mortgage each month?”
“Four hundred eighty.”
“And do you know what the actual mortgage was?”
Silence.
“Fourteen hundred. I paid the other nine hundred twenty every month from my sixteen-hundred-dollar pension. Do you know what that means? It means that after paying my share of the house, I had six hundred eighty dollars left each month for everything. Clothes. Medicine. Transportation. Anything personal. Six hundred eighty. While Emily was spending thirty dollars on a single bottle of wine.”
Daniel turned pale.
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know because you never asked. You assumed I was fine. That I was happy. That taking care of your children and cleaning your house was enough purpose for me.”
I went to my purse, took out the notebook, and placed it on the coffee table.
“Open it.”
With trembling hands, he turned the pages. Receipt after receipt. Transfer after transfer. Notes in my handwriting.
“Refrigerator, $1,890. Washer and dryer, $2,450. Living room set, $3,200. Master bathroom remodel, $6,500. TV for living room, $2,200.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“My God.”
“Keep reading.”
He reached the monthly contributions and the final total.
“Over a hundred thirty thousand.”
“And that does not include the three meals a day I cooked, the cleaning, the childcare, the laundry, the ironing. If we put a price on all of that work at the rate of a live-in housekeeper, that would be another forty thousand, approximately.”
He closed the notebook, trembling.
“I don’t have a hundred thirty thousand dollars to pay you. I don’t even have twenty thousand in savings.”
“I know.”
“So what do you want?”
There it was.
“The house? Are you going to kick us out onto the street?”
I took a deep breath.
“I want you to understand what you lost. It wasn’t just a house. It wasn’t just furniture or money. You lost your mother. You lost me.”
“I haven’t lost you. You’re right here.”
“When was the last time you asked me how I was? How I slept? Whether my back hurt from cleaning so much? Whether I missed your father? Whether I felt lonely?”
Silence.
“When was the last time you hugged me without it being in passing? Sat with me for coffee? Really looked me in the eye?”
