“Family used to take care of family,” Colleen said.
“We are taking care of you.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Okay.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Family used to take care of family.”
I understood then: she wanted a reaction.
After that, she changed tactics.
“Ethan always understood family responsibility,” she said one night.
I looked up from my plate.
Across from her, Ethan went still.
Colleen continued.
I understood then: she wanted a reaction.
“Samuel never would’ve let his mother struggle alone.”
Samuel was Ethan’s late father, gone years before Ethan and I met.
“Mom,” Ethan said.
“What?”
“Not tonight, please.”
I looked between them.
“Not tonight, please.”
“Understood what?”
Neither answered.
Later, I stopped Ethan in our bedroom.
“What was that about?”
“After Dad died, Mom had a hard time. I promised I’d look after her.”
“How?”
“What was that about?”
He loosened his tie.
“Brooke, not tonight.”
“You’re both talking around something.”
“There’s nothing you need to worry about.”
That answer guaranteed I would.
“Brooke, not tonight.”
A few nights later, Colleen started talking about how families used to care for aging parents.
“Nobody asked whether it was convenient,” she said. “You just did it.”
I looked at Ethan.
He looked away.
After dinner, I followed him into the hallway.
“You just did it.”
“Is your mother expecting to live with us?”
“No.”
“Then why does she keep talking like she is?”
“Her renovations are taking longer.”
He didn’t answer.
The next morning, I caught him by the door.
“Is your mother expecting to live with us?”
“What exactly is her timeline?”
“Mom said you two already talked.”
“We talked about getting through the week.”
“She said you’d make it work.”
“That doesn’t mean agreeing to something I don’t know about.”
He checked the time.
“What exactly is her timeline?”
“I have to go.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“The living room situation.”
“What living room situation?”
“Handle what?”
But he was already out the door.
By lunchtime, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
By mid-afternoon, I left work early.
Then I found the truck.
Now Colleen stood in front of me while my couch sat half-loaded.
I left work early.
“Your things are arriving tomorrow?” I asked.
“Some of them.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m staying, Brooke.”
I stared at her.
“Until the renovations are done? That was the plan.”
“Because I’m staying, Brooke.”
“No.”
“Did Ethan agree to that?”
“He agreed we needed more room for me.”
I looked toward the truck.
“You told him you were moving in?”
“Did Ethan agree to that?”
“I reminded him of a promise he’d made.”
“What promise?”
“When Samuel died, Ethan told me I’d always have a home with him.”
“He was grieving. He meant he’d take care of you, Colleen. You don’t need to move into my home to be taken care of.”
“He meant what he said.”
“What promise?”
“Did Ethan tell you to move in permanently?”
“He agreed to clear the living room for my furniture and give me the second bathroom for myself.”
“What did you tell him I’d agreed to?”
Her mouth tightened.
“I said we’d talked, Brooke.”
“What did you tell him I’d agreed to?”
“We talked about getting through another week, Colleen! I was ready to put up with you moving my things around for a short time!”
“You said we’d make it work.”
“For a few weeks, Colleen.”
“And what was I supposed to do? Wait until you decided I wasn’t welcome?”
There it was.
“For a few weeks, Colleen.”
She’d known I hadn’t agreed.
“You let Ethan think I had.”
“I told him we’d talked.”
I looked at the couch, then back at her.
“The kitchen. My closet. The plant. You kept pushing so Ethan would think I couldn’t stand having you here.”
I hadn’t agreed.
“I wanted him to see how territorial you’ve become.”
“In my own home?”
“It’s my son’s home too.”
“Exactly. My husband’s. Not yours to redesign until I disappear.”
Her face hardened.
“I was here before you.”
“In my own home?”
I turned to the movers.
“Please set the couch down and don’t move anything else.”
One of them nodded.
“We can wait.”
Colleen folded her arms.
“We can wait.”
“Call Ethan.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I was already going to.”
For the first time, her confidence slipped.
So I called him.
“Call Ethan.”
Ethan pulled into the driveway less than 15 minutes later.
Colleen moved toward him first.
“Ethan, thank God. Brooke’s stopping the movers.”
I stepped between them.
“No. Before anybody explains anything for anybody else, I want to hear from you.”
Ethan looked at the couch sitting crooked on the grass.
“Ethan, thank God.”
Then at me.
“Did you hire them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Mom said you two talked about making room and making her feel more at home with some of her own stuff.”
“I want to be very clear. Did I ever tell you she was moving in permanently?”
“Did you hire them?”
His face changed.
“No.”
Colleen cut in.
“That isn’t what we discussed.”
I turned to her.
“No.”
“You’ve had your turn.”
Then I faced Ethan again.
“Your mother says you promised she’d always have a home with you after your father died.”
He went still.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Is that true?”
“When did you promise?”
“Years before I met you, Brooke.”
“And what did you mean?”
Ethan looked at his mother.
“I meant she’d never be alone. I’d help her. I’d make sure she was okay.”
“Years before I met you, Brooke.”
Colleen shook her head.
“You said I’d always have a home with you.”
“I know what I said, Mom.”
“Then why are you changing it now?”
“I’m not.”
His voice sharpened.
“I know what I said, Mom.”
“I never promised you could move into my marriage without Brooke agreeing.”
