“We’ll go see her soon. In a couple of days.” Aunt Heather was strong and her words convincing. We finally walked inside the house and I noticed Jack sitting at the entrance to the kitchen, not moving or not speaking. I guess he’d been there all along.
The three of us sat at the table for dinner that evening. Jack, my aunt, and me. Dad didn’t come home that night, or any other night. Aunt Heather tried to explain, but it didn’t make much sense to us.
The days drifted into weeks and we didn’t see Momma. Aunt Heather kept saying, “She’s not quite ready yet.”
One night at dinner, Aunt Heather told us we were going to her house. She had things she needed to do at her place; she had a job and they needed her back, and Momma wasn’t getting better anytime soon.
My mind raced. She was talking about moving, not just visiting. Leaving my home, my friends, my school, and my parents. Well, leaving Momma, at least; by then, we had figured out that Daddy had left us all. I loved Aunt Heather, but this was home and I needed to be here. I’d never lived anywhere else and I had never thought of leaving.
I begged, pleaded, and bargained. I told Aunt Heather she could move into our house. She could have our room. We’d sleep in Mom and Dad’s bed. We’d be good, work hard. Her friends would come and visit. She could find a job here. She listened, even cried along with me at times. Held me a lot. Nothing worked. By the weekend, we were packed and gone.