Chapter 13 - THE HOUSE WITH THREE BROTHERS IN IT
We moved into Tavian’s house after the trustee approved.
Not permanently guaranteed.
Six-month occupancy review.
Formal agreement.
The trust owned the property.
I did not.
First night, Esmond ran straight to his room.
Everything remained.
Books.
Toy trucks.
A dinosaur poster hanging crooked.
He touched Tavian’s bedroom door.
“Daddy room.”
“Yes.”
“Can stay?”
“For now.”
I did not turn it into a shrine.
We packed some medical equipment.
Donated unopened supplies.
Kept Tavian’s clothes in boxes until Esmond could tolerate decisions.
The trustee arranged estate-property inventory.
Ulric’s belongings had to be removed.
Here was temptation.
I wanted everything of his gone immediately.
Boots.
Tools.
Duffel.
Coffee mug.
I wanted the house purified.
Then I remembered the school.
Impulse.
So I did not throw anything out.
Ulric’s lawyer arranged a supervised pickup while Esmond was at school.
No confrontation.
No symbolic tossing possessions onto the curb.
Good.
Then the coffee table.
The broken glass had been removed.
An empty rectangle remained on the rug.
Esmond refused to walk across it.
I moved the rug.
He still avoided the spot.
Dr. Lena Ward, his therapist, said:
“Do not buy another glass table.”
I laughed.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
We bought wood.
Simple oak.
Rounded corners.
Esmond helped tighten two screws with a child-safe hex key.
When finished, he knocked on it.
“Can’t break.”
“It can.”
His face changed.
“Everything can break.”
I added:
“But we don’t smash tables to scare people.”
He nodded.
May you like
Better.
No impossible promises.
