Chapter 24 - THE OLD HOUSE
Elden and Mavis’s old house sold years earlier.
After divorce.
A family bought it.
Renovated.
The dining room became a library.
I knew because real-estate listing resurfaced decades later.
Otis sent it.
LOOK.
The table was gone.
The trash bin.
The chair.
Everything.
Bookshelves now.
Window seat.
I stared longer than expected.
Then:
Good.
Otis replied:
Want to buy it?
I sent:
Absolutely not.
He laughed.
Then he admitted he had driven past once.
Not gone in.
“Why?”
“Curious.”
“What did you feel?”
“Nothing much.”
That surprised him.
Trauma sometimes leaves quietly.
Then Otis showed me the scar? He had no lasting head scar. Keep accurate. The bump left nothing.
He touched side of head.
“I used to think there’d be a dent.”
“There wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I remember the floor being colder than it probably was.”
Memory exaggerates sensory details.
Maybe.
Then:
“I remember you yelling.”
“Let go of my child.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the first thing?”
“No.”
“What?”
“The plate hitting trash.”
Interesting.
Not fall.
Food.
Then:
“I remember being hungry.”
That hurt.
“Were you?”
“Probably not physically. I just remember wanting bread.”
I closed my eyes.
He touched my hand.
“Mom.”
“I’m okay.”
“Actually?”
“Actually.”
That question had survived.
Then he asked:
“Do you think you should have left before Easter?”
“Yes.”
“Do you blame yourself?”
“For staying longer than I wish I had.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Then:
“Did you know Dad was afraid of Grandma?”
“Not enough.”
“Do you think that matters?”
“Yes.”
“Excuses?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He sounded like a therapist.
Then I asked:
“Do you wish I’d cut him off completely?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted a dad.”
There.
Complexity.
“He had to become safe enough.”
“Yes.”
“Was he?”
“Eventually.”
That was the parenting story.
Not redemption overnight.
Proof over time.
Then Clarke called during our conversation.
Seventy-three.
Wanted help with phone update.
Otis groaned.
“See?”
He took call anyway.
“Dad, click settings.”
I listened.
Family sounded ordinary.
No trust.
No board.
May you like
No leftovers.
Ordinary had become the reward.
