My House, My Rules
My mother’s boyfriend demanded I hand over my car keys last night because “the man of the house makes all decisions,” but he was about to learn who actually owned the house. When my mother started dating Frank eight months ago, he seemed normal. He was polite, brought flowers, and treated her well. After three months, she asked if he could move in since his lease was ending. I wasn’t thrilled, but I wanted her to be happy. I was 24, working as a veterinary technician, saving money by living at home. The day Frank moved in, everything changed.
Chapter 1: The Man of the House
He walked through the house pointing at things. “That TV needs to go in the basement. Men watch sports in the living room.” He told me my parking spot in the driveway was now his. “The man of the house parks closest to the door.” When I laughed, thinking he was joking, he got serious. “I’m not joking. I’m the man of this house now.” My mother just smiled and said Frank was “traditional.”
Within a week, Frank had completely rearranged our lives. He decided what we watched on TV, what we ate for dinner, and when we could use the washing machine. He told me I couldn’t have friends over without his permission. When my boyfriend Adam visited, Frank sat between us on the couch and said, “No touching under his roof.” He started going through my mail, saying “the man of the house needs to know everything happening in his domain.” When I complained to my mother, she said Frank was “just establishing boundaries” and I should respect him.
Last month, Frank announced new house rules, posted them on the refrigerator. No music after 8 PM. No guests without 48 hours notice. Everyone contributes grocery money to him directly. He’d handle all the shopping. I had to text him when I left and when I’d return. My mother thought it was “sweet” that he wanted to protect us.
I started spending more time at Adam’s place. Frank called me disrespectful for “avoiding family time.” He said, “Real women support their household leadership.” He started demanding I cook dinner three nights a week because “that’s women’s work.” When I refused, he turned off the Wi-Fi router and said I’d “lost internet privileges until I learned respect.”
Two weeks ago, Frank decided my room should be his office. Told me I could move to the smaller guest room since I “barely contributed anything anyway.” My mother agreed, saying Frank “worked from home sometimes and needed space.” I was furious but packed my things. Frank immediately moved his huge desk into my room. Hung his ugly sports memorabilia on my walls.
Yesterday, everything came to a head. Frank announced he was selling my car because “the man of the house decided one car was enough for me and Mom to share.” He’d use the money for a new truck. He held out his hand for my keys. I laughed. He got in my face and said this wasn’t a request. My mother stood behind him telling me not to “make a scene.”
That’s when our doorbell rang. It was Mrs. Hendrickx from next door with her daughter Elaine, who’s a real estate attorney. Frank tried to close the door, saying we were having “family time.” Mrs. Hendrickx pushed past him. “Actually, I need to speak with the homeowner.”
Frank puffed up his chest. “That’s me. I’m the man of this house.”
Elaine laughed. “No, you’re not. I pulled the property records. This house is owned by Ruby Sinclair.”
My mother looked confused. “That’s my grandmother. She died five years ago.”
Mrs. Hendrickx smiled at me. “Actually, she left the house to Julia.”
My mother’s face went white. “That’s impossible! Mom left the house to me!”
I finally spoke up. “No, she left it to me. You were broke after the divorce and begged me not to tell anyone because you were embarrassed. You said we’d just keep living like normal. I agreed because I loved you and wanted you to feel secure.”
Elaine pulled out her tablet, showing the deed. “Julia’s owned this house for five years.”
Frank turned to my mother, shocked, and my mother started crying.
Chapter 2: The Truth Comes Out
Frank’s face changed fast, going from shocked to angry in seconds. He spun toward my mother and got right up close to her. “Did you know about this?” His voice was loud and sharp. “Did you know she owned the house this whole time?”
My mother shook her head hard, tears running down her face. She kept saying “no” over and over, her hands shaking. “I had no idea. I swear, Frank. I thought my grandmother left it to me.”
Mrs. Hendrickx didn’t move from the doorway, standing there with her arms crossed like she was making sure Frank couldn’t push anyone around or make them leave. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest and my hands were sweaty. This was my house. My house.
I finally found my voice, and it came out stronger than I expected. “Frank, you need to leave my house right now.”
He turned to look at me and actually laughed, a mean sound that made my stomach tight. “You can’t just kick me out, sweetheart. I have rights as a resident. I’ve been living here for eight months.”
My mother jumped in, her voice all shaky and desperate. “Julia, please. We need to talk about this calmly as a family. Can we all just sit down and discuss this like adults?”
Elaine stepped forward, her lawyer voice calm and clear. “Actually, as the property owner, Julia can absolutely require you to leave. You’re not on any lease, Frank. You have no legal claim to residency here. You’re essentially a guest who has overstayed their welcome.”
Frank’s face turned red. Really red. And he started yelling. “You’re all crazy! I’m the man of this house! I’ve been taking care of things here, making decisions, keeping everything running!” He pointed at me. “You’re an ungrateful little girl who doesn’t understand how the real world works. Your mother needed someone to step up and be the man around here.”
Mrs. Hendrickx pulled out her phone. “Lower your voice right now, Frank, or I’m calling the police for disturbing the peace.”
My mother was crying harder now, begging everyone to calm down. “Please, everyone, just stop! We can sit down and talk about this reasonably. We’re all upset and saying things we don’t mean.”
But I was done. Done being reasonable with Frank. Done letting him push me around in my own house. Done watching my mother make excuses for him. I looked right at Frank and my voice didn’t shake this time. “You have until tomorrow evening to pack your things and get out of my house. That’s more than fair.”
Frank looked at my mother, waiting for her to defend him like she always did. She stood there wringing her hands, looking between us, tears still running down her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Frank stared at her, waiting, and she just kept crying and wringing her hands.
Then Frank changed completely. His face went calm and his voice got soft and reasonable, like he was talking to a crazy person. “Honey, look at your daughter. She’s clearly having some kind of breakdown. You need to handle this. She’s not thinking straight.”
My mother actually nodded, looking at me with worried eyes. “Julia, maybe we should talk privately, just the two of us, without everyone else here.”
I wanted to scream, but I kept my voice level. “Fine, we can talk.”
Mrs. Hendrickx and Elaine looked at each other. Then Elaine reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. She walked over and handed it to me. “Call me if you need any help at all. Legal help, advice, anything.” I took the card and thanked her. Mrs. Hendrickx squeezed my shoulder as they walked to the door. “You did the right thing, honey.”
Frank stomped past us toward what used to be my bedroom, and the door slammed so hard the walls shook. My mother flinched at the sound.
Chapter 3: The Cold Reality
After the neighbors left and the house got quiet, except for Frank’s angry movements in the bedroom, my mother led me to the kitchen. She sat me down at the table like I was a kid in trouble. “Julia, we can’t just throw Frank out on the street. He has nowhere else to go. Where is he supposed to sleep? This is cruel.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “This isn’t how Grandma Ruby would have wanted you to treat family.”
I stared at her. “Frank isn’t family, Mom. He’s your boyfriend. You’ve known him for eight months. Eight months. And he’s made my life awful.”
She got defensive right away, her back going straight. “Frank is just traditional. You’re too sensitive about everything. He was trying to bring order to our household. Someone needed to.”
I felt anger building in my chest, hot and tight. “Order?” I kept my voice quiet but firm. “Mom. Frank posted rules on our refrigerator like we were children. He took my bedroom and kicked me into the guest room. He tried to sell my car today. My car. He treats me like I’m a kid who needs permission to exist in my own house.”
My mother shook her head. “You’re making him sound so much worse than he is. You’re being dramatic, Julia. Frank was just trying to help. He wanted us to have structure and routine. That’s what men do. They take charge and make things run smoothly.”
I stared at my mother across the kitchen table, and something inside me just broke. Not in a sad way, but in a clear way. She wasn’t going to see what Frank really was. She couldn’t see it because she didn’t want to see it. I stood up, and my voice came out steady and calm. “Frank leaves tomorrow or you both leave. This is my house and I’m done with this.”
My mother’s face crumpled, and fresh tears started. She grabbed my arm and her voice got high and shaky, begging me not to do this, saying I was making her choose between her daughter and the man she loved. I pulled my arm away and told her Frank was the one who made her choose by treating me like garbage in my own home. She kept crying and saying she couldn’t just throw him out, that he needed time, that I was being cruel.
I grabbed my phone and my keys and walked out. I couldn’t stay in that house another minute with Frank’s stuff in my bedroom and my mother making excuses for him. I drove to Adam’s apartment, and he took one look at my face and pulled me inside. I sat on his couch and started crying. Really crying. Angry tears that made my whole body shake. Adam sat next to me and put his arm around me, and I told him everything my mother said. He listened and rubbed my back while I cried about eight months of my mother picking Frank’s feelings over mine. Eight months of watching her smile while Frank took over my life piece by piece. Adam said my mother was wrong and I deserved better. And he was proud of me for standing up to Frank.
I stayed at his place that night because I couldn’t face going home. I barely slept, just lay there thinking about my mother crying in the kitchen, thinking about Frank, probably sitting in my old bedroom feeling smug.
The next morning, I called Elaine before I even got out of bed. She answered on the second ring, and I asked her what I could actually do to get Frank out of my house. She was quiet for a second and then explained that since Frank had been living there for eight months, he might have what’s called “established tenancy.” That meant I might need to formally evict him through the courts, which could take 30 days or more. My stomach dropped. 30 days of Frank in my house. 30 days of my mother defending him. 30 days of this nightmare.
Elaine must have heard something in my voice because she said there was another option. She could send Frank a letter on her law firm’s official letterhead demanding he leave immediately. Sometimes that scared people enough that they left without making it a legal thing. The letter would make it clear I had a lawyer and was serious about my rights as the property owner. I told her, “Yes, please do that,” and she said she’d have it written up and sent by the end of the day. I thanked her about five times, and she told me to call her if Frank gave me any trouble at all.
I went to work at the veterinary clinic and tried to focus on the animals, but my hands were shaking while I checked a cat’s temperature. My coworker, Kira, noticed right away and pulled me into the back room during our break. She asked what was wrong, and I just started talking. I told her everything about Frank moving in and taking over. About the house rules, my bedroom, and him trying to sell my car. About the neighbors showing up with the property records, about my mother lying for five years about who owned the house. Kira’s mouth fell open, and she said she couldn’t believe my mother had lied about something that big for that long. I explained that my mother was embarrassed after the divorce, that she was broke and didn’t want anyone to know, and I’d agreed to keep the secret because I loved her. Kira shook her head and said that was really messed up, that my mother had put me in an awful position. It felt good to tell someone at work, to have Kira understand why I was so upset.
Kira made us both coffee, and we sat in the break room. She said I should talk to her mother, Pamela, who was a family therapist. Kira said her mom had seen situations like this before and might have advice about dealing with my mother’s behavior. I hesitated because it felt weird to talk to a therapist about my family problems, like I was airing dirty laundry to a stranger. Kira insisted that her mom had helped lots of people with family stuff and wouldn’t judge me. She pulled out her phone and texted her mom right there asking if she’d be willing to talk to me. Her mom texted back within minutes saying yes. Kira showed me the message, and I felt a weird mix of relief and embarrassment. I told Kira thank you and that I’d think about it, but she gave me that look that meant she knew I needed to do it.
Chapter 4: The Line in the Sand
When I got home that evening, Frank was sitting in the living room like nothing had happened. He had the TV on watching some sports game, and he barely looked up when I walked in. He pointed toward the kitchen and told me dinner was in the fridge if I wanted it, like he’d done me some big favor by putting leftovers away. I stood there staring at him, and he just kept watching TV, acting like yesterday never happened, like he hadn’t just found out this wasn’t his house at all. My mother wasn’t anywhere I could see.
I walked over and stood between Frank and the TV. I told him he was getting a legal letter tomorrow demanding he leave my house. Frank laughed, actually laughed, and said I was wasting my money on lawyers. He said I couldn’t just kick him out and that I’d figure that out soon enough.
My mother came out of her bedroom looking terrible, her eyes all red and puffy, her hair a mess. She walked over and stood next to Frank and begged me to give him more time to find a place. She said it wasn’t fair to just throw him out with nowhere to go. I looked at my mother and asked her why she was protecting a man who had been awful to me for eight months. She flinched, but then her face got defensive. She said I didn’t understand how hard it was to find love at her age, that dating was different now, that good men were hard to find. She said Frank made her feel safe and taken care of, that he handled things she didn’t want to deal with, that I was being selfish by threatening all of that. Frank nodded along like she was making perfect sense.
I felt something cold settle in my chest. I looked at my mother standing there defending Frank, and I finally understood. She was so desperate for a man, any man, that she’d let him walk all over both of us. She’d been so scared of being alone after the divorce that she’d grabbed onto Frank and refused to see what he really was. I told her that being alone was way better than being with someone who treated your daughter like garbage. I said she deserved better than a man who tried to control everything and disrespected me in my own house. My mother just shook her head and said I was too young to understand, that I had Adam, so I didn’t know what it was like to be alone. Frank put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.
I turned around and went to my room, the small guest room that used to be mine before Frank decided he needed my real room for his office.
The next morning, I stayed in my room until I heard Frank leave for his usual coffee run. I came out and found my mother in the kitchen making breakfast, her eyes still red and puffy from crying the night before. She looked at me but didn’t say anything. Just kept scrambling eggs like everything was normal. I poured myself coffee and sat at the table, and we stayed in this weird silence until Frank came back. He walked in carrying a large envelope with a law firm logo on it, and his face had gone completely white. He ripped it open right there in the kitchen, and I watched his expression change from confused to angry as he read through the pages. He threw the letter down on the table and turned to my mother with this look of total rage. He told her she needed to do something about her daughter’s attitude right now.
My mother picked up the letter with shaking hands and started reading while Frank paced around the kitchen muttering about disrespect and ungrateful children. The letter was from Elaine, and it laid out everything in clear legal language: I owned the house. Frank had no legal claim to residency, and he needed to vacate within seven days or face formal eviction proceedings. My mother finished reading and looked at me with this expression like I’d betrayed her somehow. She said we needed to talk about this as a family and find a reasonable solution. I told her there was nothing to discuss. Frank needed to leave my house.
My mother’s voice got higher and more desperate as she suggested maybe Frank could stay “just two more weeks” while he looked for a place. She said two weeks wasn’t much to ask and it would give Frank time to find something decent. I looked at her standing there pleading for more time for a man who had made my life hell for eight months. I said no, he has until the end of this week, and that’s more generous than he deserves.
Frank slammed his hand on the counter and said I was being vindictive and cruel. He turned to my mother and started this whole speech about how he’d done nothing but try to help our family. How he’d brought structure and order to our chaotic household, how he tried to teach me respect and responsibility. My mother was nodding along like his words made perfect sense. And I felt this cold anger spread through my chest. She actually seemed to believe him. Seemed to think Frank was some kind of victim in all this instead of the controlling bully he really was. I stood up and walked out of the kitchen because I knew if I stayed, I’d say something I couldn’t take back.
I went to my room and called Kira, told her I needed to talk to her mom as soon as possible. She texted her mom right away, and within minutes, Pamela had responded saying she could see me that afternoon at her office. I left the house without telling Frank or my mother where I was going.
Pamela’s office was in a small building downtown with comfortable chairs and soft lighting that was supposed to make you feel calm. She was in her 50s with kind eyes and this gentle way of speaking that made you want to tell her everything. I sat down and just started talking. Told her about Frank moving in and taking over, about my mother lying about the house ownership, about the legal letter and my mother begging for more time. Pamela listened without interrupting, and when I finished, she leaned forward and said something that hit me hard. She said my mother showed clear signs of codependency, and this pattern had probably been there long before Frank came into the picture. She explained that my mother’s need for male validation was so strong that she was willing to sacrifice her relationship with me to keep Frank happy. Pamela said women like my mother often felt incomplete without a man and would tolerate terrible behavior rather than face being alone. I asked if there was anything I could do to make my mother see what Frank really was. Pamela shook her head and said I couldn’t fix my mother or change how she saw Frank. I could only control my own boundaries. She told me to prepare myself for the possibility that my mother might choose to leave with Frank rather than stay in my house without him. That thought made my stomach hurt, but I knew Pamela was right. She said the healthiest thing I could do was stand firm on my boundaries and let my mother make her own choices, even if those choices hurt me. We talked for almost an hour, and by the end, I felt clearer about what I needed to do, even though it scared me.
Chapter 5: Unlocking Freedom
That night, I found my mother alone in the living room and sat down next to her. I told her I loved her, but I wouldn’t let Frank stay in my house any longer. She started crying immediately and said I was forcing her to choose between her daughter and the man she loved. I said Frank was the one who created this whole situation by being controlling and mean to me in my own home. My mother wiped her eyes and admitted that Frank could be difficult sometimes, but she said he’d been hurt before in past relationships and just needed patience and understanding. I stared at her and suddenly saw the pattern so clearly. She was making excuses for Frank’s behavior the same way she probably made excuses for my father before the divorce. I asked her if she remembered how bad things got with my father before she finally left him. I asked if Frank’s behavior reminded her of anything from that time. She got defensive immediately and said Frank was nothing like my father. That I didn’t understand what I was talking about. But I saw her face change as she said it. Saw the recognition flash in her eyes before she pushed it away. She knew I was right, but she didn’t want to admit it.
Frank must have been listening from the hallway because suddenly he came storming into the living room. He got right in my face and said I was trying to poison my mother against him with lies and manipulation. He called me a spoiled brat who had never worked for anything in my life, living in a house I didn’t earn. He said my grandmother probably left me the house by mistake, that she couldn’t have known what an ungrateful little girl I’d turn out to be. I stood up so we were eye to eye and told him my grandmother left me this house because she trusted me to take care of it. I said that included not letting bullies take it over and turn it into their personal kingdom. Frank’s face went dark red, and he called me a degrading term that made my mother gasp. She finally spoke up and told him to stop, but her voice was so weak and shaky that it didn’t mean anything. Frank ignored her completely and kept staring at me with pure hate in his eyes. I didn’t back down, didn’t look away, just stood there meeting his glare until he finally turned and walked back to the bedroom. My mother followed him a few seconds later, and I heard them talking in low, angry voices through the door. I sat back down on the couch, and my hands were shaking, but I felt stronger than I had in months. I’d stood up to Frank in my own house, and I hadn’t backed down. I pulled out my phone and texted Adam that things were getting bad, and I needed him here. He responded immediately, saying he was on his way. I sat there on the couch listening to my mother and Frank’s voices rise and fall through the bedroom door, unable to make out words, but hearing the anger in Frank’s tone and the pleading in my mother’s.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang, and I jumped up to answer it. Adam stood there looking worried, and I fell into his arms for just a second before pulling him inside. Frank must have heard the door because he came storming out of the bedroom, his face still red from arguing. He pointed at Adam and his voice came out hard and mean. Adam just looked at him calmly and said he was here because I invited him, and this wasn’t Frank’s house to control. Frank’s whole body went stiff, and he took a step toward Adam with his fists clenched. My hands were shaking as I grabbed my phone and pulled up the emergency call screen, my finger hovering over the button. My mother came running out of the bedroom and pushed herself between Frank and Adam, her hands up like she was trying to stop traffic. She was begging everyone to calm down, her voice high and scared, when someone knocked hard on the front door.
I opened it to find Mrs. Hendrickx standing there looking concerned. She asked if everything was okay because she’d heard yelling from her yard. The sight of Mrs. Hendrickx standing in the doorway with Adam beside me seemed to drain something out of Frank. His shoulders dropped, and he stepped back, but his face was still twisted with anger. He turned and walked back toward the bedroom, muttering under his breath about being disrespected in his own home. My mother followed him immediately, trying to put her hand on his arm, and I heard their voices start up again behind the closed door. Mrs. Hendrickx came inside and closed the door behind her, then put her hand on my shoulder. She told me she’d been watching Frank’s behavior for months now, and she’d been worried about me. Her voice was gentle but serious when she said her late husband used to work with cases involving domestic control, and Frank showed all the classic signs of someone trying to establish dominance. I felt something click into place in my brain as she said it. Frank had been slowly cutting my mother and me off from our normal lives, taking control of our money and our space and our choices. Mrs. Hendrickx squeezed my shoulder and told me I’d done the right thing standing up to him before it got worse. That these situations only go one direction if nobody stops them. Adam stood close to me the whole time, his presence solid and reassuring in a way that made me realize how different he was from Frank.
After Mrs. Hendrickx left and Adam went home, I tried to sleep, but kept waking up thinking about everything she’d said. The next morning, I got up early and went to the home office to grab some papers I needed for work. That’s when I saw my financial documents scattered all over the desk: bank statements, tax returns, the deed to the house. Everything I kept in the locked filing cabinet was spread out like someone had been going through them carefully. The filing cabinet drawer hung open, and I could see Frank had forced the lock. My stomach dropped as I realized he’d been searching for something to use against me, probably trying to find proof that I didn’t really own the house or that I owed money or anything he could twist into leverage. I took pictures of everything with my phone, then carefully gathered all the papers and took them to my room. My hands were shaking with anger as I scrolled through my contacts and found Elaine’s number. She answered on the second ring, and I told her what I’d found. Her voice got sharp and professional as she said that going through someone’s private financial documents without permission could be considered invasion of privacy. She asked if I’d thought about changing the locks, and I admitted I hadn’t, but now it seemed like the obvious thing to do. Elaine said I should do it immediately and give my mother a key, but not Frank. That as the homeowner, I had every right to control who had access to my property.
I looked up locksmiths on my phone and found one who could come that afternoon while Frank was out running errands. When I told my mother what I was planning, she got upset and said I was being “too extreme.” I showed her the pictures of my scattered financial documents and told her Frank had crossed a line by breaking into my private papers. She started to make excuses about how he was probably just looking for “something innocent,” but I cut her off and said the locksmith was coming whether she liked it or not.
The locksmith showed up at 2:00 in the afternoon and spent an hour changing all the exterior door locks. He gave me three sets of keys, and I handed one to my mother, keeping the other two for myself. She held the key in her hand like it was something dangerous and asked what she was supposed to tell Frank. I told her she could tell him whatever she wanted, but he wasn’t getting a key to my house.
Frank came home around 5 and I watched through the window as he tried his key in the front door. It didn’t work, and I saw confusion cross his face before it turned to anger. He started pounding on the door with his fist, yelling for someone to let him in. My mother looked at me with panic in her eyes, and I unlocked the door but told her she could go talk to him on the porch. She slipped outside, and I locked the door again behind her, staying inside where I could see them through the window. Frank was yelling at her, demanding to know why his key didn’t work. She tried to explain about the locks being changed, and he demanded she give him her key right then. I watched my mother’s face and saw her actually considering it, her hand moving toward her pocket.
That’s when I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. I looked my mother right in the eyes and told her if she gave Frank that key, she needed to pack her things and leave with him. She froze with her hand still halfway to her pocket, looking between me and Frank. Her face showed how torn she was, caught between her daughter and this man she’d only known eight months. She pulled her hand back and shook her head at Frank. His face went from red to almost purple, and he started yelling that she was “weak and pathetic” for letting her daughter control her. My mother stood frozen on the porch with her mouth slightly open, staring at Frank like she’d never seen him before. Her face had gone pale and her hands were shaking at her sides. Frank kept going, his voice getting louder as he pointed his finger at her chest. He told her she was “stupid for letting a kid run her life” and that she’d “never find another man willing to put up with her drama.” My mother took a small step backward and bumped into the porch railing. I watched her eyes fill with tears, but this time they looked different, like she was finally seeing something she’d been avoiding. Frank grabbed her arm and told her to get inside and pack her things because they were leaving together. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, and I saw her wince.
That’s when Mrs. Hendrickx appeared at the bottom of our porch steps. She told Frank in a calm but firm voice that he needed to let go of my mother and leave the property immediately. Frank whipped around and called her a “nosy old woman who should mind her own business.” Mrs. Hendrickx pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up so Frank could see. She said if he didn’t leave right now, she was calling the police for trespassing and assault. Frank laughed and said she was being “dramatic,” that he was just having a “private conversation with his girlfriend.” Mrs. Hendrickx started dialing, and Frank’s face changed. He let go of my mother’s arm and backed toward the porch steps. He pointed at my mother and told her she had 24 hours to “come to her senses” or he was “done with her forever.” Mrs. Hendrickx spoke into her phone, giving our address and describing Frank to the dispatcher. Frank’s eyes went wide, and he practically ran to his truck parked on the street. He peeled out of the driveway so fast his tires squealed against the pavement. The sound echoed down our quiet street, and I saw a few neighbors looking out their windows.
Chapter 6: Rebuilding and Renewal
My mother stood on the porch, hugging herself and crying, but not the way she’d been crying before. These were different tears, heavier somehow, like something inside her had finally broken open. Mrs. Hendrickx came up onto the porch and put her arm around my mother’s shoulders. She guided her inside, and I followed, locking the door behind us. My mother sank onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. Mrs. Hendrickx sat next to her and rubbed her back in slow circles. I stood near the doorway, not sure what to do or say.
After a few minutes, my mother looked up at me with red, swollen eyes. She said Frank had talked to her that way before, but always in private where no one else could hear. He’d call her names and tell her she was lucky he stayed with her. Then later, he’d apologize and bring her flowers and say he was just stressed about work. She’d believed him every time because she wanted so badly for the relationship to work. I sat down on the other side of her and took her hand. I told her as gently as I could that apologizing after being mean was part of how people like Frank kept control. They hurt you, then make you feel grateful when they’re nice again. My mother started crying harder and nodded like she understood but had been too scared to admit it. Mrs. Hendrickx stayed for another hour, making sure my mother was okay before going home.
Over the next few days, my mother moved through the house like a ghost. She was quiet and thoughtful, spending a lot of time sitting in the kitchen staring at nothing. Frank kept texting her, and at first she’d just stare at her phone when it buzzed. Finally, on the third day, she showed me the messages. They started out apologetic, with Frank saying he was sorry for losing his temper and that he loved her. But as the days went on and she didn’t respond, the texts got nastier. He called her pathetic and said she was nothing without him. He demanded she convince me to let him back in the house. He said if she really loved him, she’d stand up to her daughter. The last text said she was going to regret throwing away the best thing that ever happened to her. My mother’s hands shook as she held the phone. I suggested she block his number, but she said she needed to officially break up with him first. She was scared of how he’d react if she just cut off contact. I offered to be there when she did it, and she looked relieved. Adam said he’d come, too, so we’d have extra support.
My mother called Frank the next morning and told him to meet her at the coffee shop on Main Street at 2 that afternoon. She said they needed to talk, and he agreed, probably thinking he could convince her to change her mind. We got there 15 minutes early and picked a table near the front window where lots of people could see us. Adam sat at a different table nearby, pretending to work on his laptop. Frank showed up exactly on time, wearing the cologne my mother liked and carrying flowers. He sat down across from her and tried to hand her the bouquet, but she didn’t take it. He sat them on the table between them and started talking fast. He said he’d been under a lot of stress and didn’t mean the things he’d said. He told her he loved her and wanted to work things out. My mother sat up straighter and looked him in the eye. She told him it was over and that he needed to collect his remaining things from the house with me present. Frank’s face went from hopeful to confused to angry in the span of about five seconds. He leaned across the table and said she was making a huge mistake. He told her she’d never find anyone else who would want her. My mother stood up and said goodbye. Frank grabbed her wrist and raised his voice asking where she thought she was going. Several people in the coffee shop turned to look. Adam got up from his table and walked over. Frank let go of my mother’s wrist, and she walked out the door without looking back. I followed her, and Adam stayed behind to make sure Frank didn’t try to follow us.
Two days later, Frank showed up at the house with some guy I’d never seen before. I was ready with Adam and Mrs. Hendrickx both there as witnesses. Frank barely looked at any of us as he went straight to what used to be my bedroom. He packed up his big desk by taking it apart piece by piece. His friend helped him carry it out to his truck. Then they came back for the ugly sports stuff he’d hung on the walls. Frank grabbed his clothes from the closet and shoved them into garbage bags. The whole time he didn’t say a single word. My mother stood in the hallway watching him with her arms crossed. When Frank had everything loaded in his truck, he came back to the front door one last time. He
