Chapter 2: The Price of Staying
For several seconds, nobody moved.
My mother looked like she'd been slapped.
"What I did?"" she whispered.
Rachel gave a humorless laugh.
"Yes, Evelyn. What you did.""
I stepped between them.
"Rachel, explain.""
One of her friends, Melissa, grabbed her purse.
"Maybe we should go.""
Rachel shook her head.
"No. Apparently Daniel wants an audience.""
"I want the truth.""
"Fine.""
She looked directly at me.
"Your mother has been living here for three months.""
"I know.""
"Rent-free.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"She's my mother.""
"And this is our house.""
"My house too.""
"Our house, Daniel. Which means decisions about who lives here should involve both of us.""
"They did. We discussed this.""
"No. You informed me.""
That wasn't how I remembered it.
The night Mom fell, I'd driven her to the emergency room.
Rachel had been sitting beside me when the doctor said Mom shouldn't be alone during recovery.
In the hospital parking lot, Rachel had squeezed my hand.
"Bring her home," she'd said.
"We'll figure it out.""
I remembered those exact words.
Now Rachel was acting as though I'd dragged a stranger into our bedroom.
"You told me to bring her here.""
"For a few weeks.""
"She's seventy-eight.""
"That doesn't mean she can't help.""
My mother lowered her eyes.
I turned toward her.
"Mom, go upstairs.""
"No," she said quietly.
"Mom.""
"I think you need to hear this.""
Rachel's friends remained frozen.
Even Melissa hadn't left.
My mother walked slowly toward the dining table and pulled out a chair.
Her knees seemed unsteady.
I helped her sit.
Then she looked at me.
"Rachel has been giving me chores.""
My stomach tightened.
"What chores?""
"Daniel," Rachel interrupted.
I raised my hand.
"Let her speak.""
Mom folded her hands in her lap.
"At first, it was little things. Folding laundry. Wiping counters. Watering the plants.""
"Okay.""
"I didn't mind.""
Rachel exhaled dramatically.
"See?""
Mom continued.
"Then she started leaving lists.""
I looked at Rachel.
"Lists?""
"She's exaggerating.""
"Was she cleaning your bedroom?""
Rachel said nothing.
That silence answered me.
Mom's voice became smaller.
"Sometimes.""
My chest tightened.
"What else?""
"The bathrooms.""
I stared at my wife.
"The bathrooms?""
"Daniel, stop acting like I chained her to a radiator.""
One of Rachel's friends whispered, "Jesus.""
Rachel shot her a look.
I leaned against the back of a chair because suddenly I didn't trust myself to stand still.
"Mom, how often?""
"Most days.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
She looked ashamed.
That broke something in me.
"I didn't want to cause trouble.""
"You could never cause trouble for me.""
"I know.""
"No, Mom. I don't think you do.""
Her eyes filled.
Rachel crossed her arms.
"This is exactly the problem.""
I turned.
"What problem?""
"Everything becomes some emotional drama with you two.""
"My mother is crying because you've been treating her like domestic help.""
"I asked her to contribute.""
"She's recovering from a fall!""
"She's recovered enough to spend hours gardening.""
Mom looked up.
"I garden because my physical therapist told me gentle movement is good.""
Rachel rolled her eyes.
That tiny gesture did more damage than anything she'd said.
I saw it.
So did everyone else.
"Don't," I said.
Rachel frowned.
"Don't what?""
"Roll your eyes at my mother.""
"Oh my God.""
"Rachel.""
"What do you want me to say, Daniel? I'm tired of being the villain because I don't want another adult living in my house indefinitely.""
That sentence, at least, was honest.
I nodded slowly.
"Then you should have told me.""
"I tried.""
"No. You told her.""
Rachel's face changed.
I saw it immediately.
"You didn't tell me you wanted Mom gone," I continued.
"You waited until I went to work and made her life uncomfortable enough that she'd leave on her own.""
"That's ridiculous.""
"Is it?""
Mom began crying quietly.
I crouched beside her.
"Mom.""
She wiped her cheek.
"I'm sorry.""
"Stop apologizing.""
"I thought if I did everything she asked, she'd let me stay until I found somewhere safe.""
I turned sharply toward Rachel.
"Let you stay?""
Rachel's lips parted.
Mom reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
"I wasn't going to show you this.""
She pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
Rachel immediately stepped forward.
"Evelyn.""
Mom flinched.
I stood.
"What is that?""
"Nothing," Rachel said quickly.
Mom held the paper toward me.
"It's what she gave me Monday.""
Rachel moved again.
I took it first.
It wasn't a formal document.
Just a handwritten list.
At the top, in Rachel's handwriting, were the words:
HOUSE EXPECTATIONS.
Underneath were chores.
Kitchen.
Laundry.
Guest bathroom.
Vacuuming.
Dinner preparation three nights a week.
At the bottom was another sentence.
If these responsibilities are too difficult, we may need to discuss another living arrangement.
My hands went cold.
"Rachel.""
"It's being taken out of context.""
"What context makes this acceptable?""
"She lives here!""
"She's my mother!""
"And I'm your wife!""
The shout echoed through the room.
Nobody spoke.
Then Mom said something so quietly I almost missed it.
"There's another page.""
Rachel went completely still.
I looked at Mom.
"What other page?""
She reached into her cardigan again.
This time, she removed a small envelope.
Rachel's face lost its color.
"Don't.""
Mom stared at her.
For the first time all night, there was no fear in my mother's expression.
Only hurt.
"You told me he already agreed.""
I looked from Mom to Rachel.
"Agreed to what?""
Mom handed me the envelope.
Inside was a brochure for an assisted-living facility nearly two hours away.
A yellow sticky note had been attached to the front.
I recognized my wife's handwriting.
AVAILABLE ROOM — OCTOBER 15.
I looked at Rachel.
"You were trying to put my mother in a facility?""
Rachel shook her head.
"I was exploring options.""
"Without telling me?""
"Because every conversation about Evelyn becomes impossible!""
Mom suddenly stood.
"I should go.""
I caught her arm gently.
"You're not going anywhere.""
Rachel laughed bitterly.
"Of course not.""
I turned.
"Your friends need to leave.""
This time nobody argued.
Purses were collected.
Coats were grabbed.
Within two minutes, the front door closed behind the last guest.
The house became painfully quiet.
Rachel and I stood facing each other.
My mother remained near the stairs.
I pointed toward the brochure.
"Did you tell my mother I agreed to this?""
Rachel didn't answer.
"Rachel.""
Her eyes filled with angry tears.
"I was trying to save our marriage.""
"By lying to my mother?""
"You don't understand what she's doing.""
I stared at her.
"What she's doing?""
Rachel wiped her cheek.
"You think this started when she moved in?""
Something in her voice made me pause.
Mom gripped the stair railing.
"Rachel, don't.""
Rachel looked past me at her.
"Oh, now you don't want Daniel knowing?""
My mother went pale.
I turned toward her.
"Knowing what?""
"Daniel," Mom whispered, "please.""
Rachel walked to the cabinet beside the fireplace.
She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a thick manila envelope I'd never seen before.
She placed it on the coffee table.
"Ask your mother why she met with a lawyer three weeks ago.""
I looked at Mom.
Her face collapsed.
"Mom?""
May you like
Rachel pushed the envelope toward me.
"And while you're at it," she said, "ask her why your name is all over these papers.""
