When I returned to my apartment, I called Darren.
“We need to meet again,” I told him.
“Mom, I’ve been hoping you’d call.”
“This time, I’d like you and Thalia to come to me.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “Of course.”
They came to my apartment on Wednesday evening.
Thalia arrived carrying a small box of pastries.
Darren looked nervous.
Neither commented on my clothes.
I made coffee and invited them to sit at the little round table beside the window.
Thalia glanced around.
“It’s smaller than I imagined.”
“It’s all the space I need.”
She nodded.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Eileene, I owe you an apology.”
I waited.
“I believed Darren was supporting you financially. But that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. I wanted to embarrass you because I was angry about money, and I thought you couldn’t defend yourself.”
I appreciated that she didn’t blame the argument on stress or claim she’d been joking.
“Thank you,” I said.
She folded her hands.
“I’ve been frightened about our finances. We’ve been spending as though the house was already ours, and I thought we were also helping you every month.”
Darren looked down.
“I let her believe that,” he said. “I wanted to look successful. I didn’t want to admit how much my parents had done for me.”
Thalia turned toward him.
“You also made me feel guilty whenever I questioned our budget.”
He nodded.
“I did.”
They had clearly been having difficult conversations.
