“Keep them,” she said. “But you don’t have to keep reading them.”
I put them in the locked drawer.
For a while, I left my hand on the wood.
My money was back. My house was safe. The woman who had struck me could no longer knock on my door or reach me through a screen.
Still, when Evelyn asked what I wanted to do that afternoon, I had no answer.
Then I noticed how dusty the front windows had become.
“I want to see out,” I said.
She stayed and helped me wash them.
CHAPTER 5 – The Morning Room
Terrence wrote before he visited.
His first letter was four pages long. I read half a page, found three explanations, and put it away.
The next was shorter.
I signed your name because I wanted an easy way out. I stood still because I wanted you to carry the consequences instead of me. You did not cause either choice.
I read that one twice.
By then, he was renting a room near his work. His divorce was underway, handled through attorneys. He attended counseling and completed his community service on Saturdays. I learned these things in small, factual letters, not declarations that he had become a different man.
Eventually, I invited him for an hour on a Sunday afternoon.
June knew he was coming. So did Evelyn.
He arrived without luggage.
At the door, he waited until I stepped aside.
We sat at the kitchen table, not beside his father’s recliner. He placed his hands in his lap.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.
“Neither do I.”
His eyes moved to my cheek, then away.
“You can look at me, Terrence.”
“I know.”
“No. I need you to.”
He lifted his head.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
“I wanted you to say my name,” I told him. “On the porch. Just say, ‘Mom,’ and come toward me.”
His chin trembled.
