I wake up every morning at 5:30 without even looking at the clock. My old bones won’t let me sleep longer, and I’ve been an early riser since my youth. My room in the annex, my son’s former garage, is always filled with the pre-dawn mist through the small window that I leave ajar, despite the draft.
I am 67, although on some days I feel like I am 80, especially when I hear Parker and Odalia whispering in the kitchen, thinking I can’t hear. «My father is becoming more and more absent-minded. Yesterday I noticed that he forgot to turn off the stove.» They talk about me as if I already have one foot in the grave.
After getting out of bed, I do some simple exercises for my back, which has been bothering me since I worked as an accountant for Hillman Construction for 42 years. 42 years at a desk, with a calculator and papers. Some might find it boring, but I always found satisfaction in numbers.
They don’t lie, unlike people. After my warm-up, I quietly make myself some tea. The electric kettle makes noise, but not loud enough to wake my son and his wife.
They get up at 7:00, when their daughter Bridget gets ready for school. Bridget is my only granddaughter, a 16-year-old girl with eyes so similar to those of my late wife, Miriam. Miriam. It’s been four years since she left us.
Pancreatic cancer: late diagnosis, quick and merciless death. After she left, our big house in the suburbs of Lexington became as empty as a discarded seashell. I wandered around the rooms for two months before Parker suggested I move in with them.
«Sell the house, Dad,» he said then, putting his hand on my shoulder. «We’ll expand the addition and give you a separate entrance. You’ll be better off with your family.»
At the time, his words sounded sincere. His wife, Odelia, even hugged me and whispered, «We’ll take care of you, Cedric.» I almost believed her.
The house where Miriam and I had lived for 35 years sold for a good price. I kept a portion for myself and used most of it, almost two-thirds, for the down payment on their new house in a prestigious neighborhood. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
My son, my daughter-in-law, my granddaughter—they deserved a good start. Parker had a good but not highly paid job as a building inspector, and Odelia was just starting to climb the career ladder as a logistics coordinator. «Don’t worry about the paperwork, Dad,» Parker said when I asked if we should do something about my share of the house.
«We’re family. This house will be your home for the rest of your life.» I nod to my thoughts, sipping my tea and looking out the window at Lexington waking up.
I’ve always been naive, according to Miriam, too trusting for this world. The clock reads 6:45. I put away my cup, put on a sweater, and go out to the garden to check on the plants before the family wakes up. The small vegetable garden is my outlet.
I grow tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, and greens. Bridget says my tomatoes are the best in the world. At 7:10, I hear a noise coming from the house.
Parker has turned on the coffee maker, Odelia is making breakfast, and Bridget is taking a shower. I deliberately linger in the garden, giving them time for a family breakfast. A month ago, Odelia remarked that I was hovering over them in the mornings.
«Grandpa!» Bridget’s clear voice cuts through the morning air, and I can’t help but smile. She runs out into the garden, already dressed in her school uniform, her red hair casually tied back in a ponytail. «I did my math homework. Do you want to check it?»
«Of course, dear,» I reply, wiping the dirt off my hands on my old jeans. We sit down on a bench, and I look over her equations. Bridget has inherited my love of numbers, although Parker has always been more of a humanities person.
«There’s a mistake here,» I point to the third equation. «Look closer.» She frowns, then her face lights up with understanding.
«Right, I put the wrong sign. Thanks, Grandpa.» She hugs me, and for a moment, the world feels right.
Then Odelia’s voice calls from the house. «Bridget! The car will be here soon.» My granddaughter sighs and rolls her eyes.
«Bye, Grandpa.» She quickly kisses me on the cheek and runs off. I get up from the bench, feeling a sharp pain in my knee.
Old age doesn’t come alone, as Miriam used to say. Entering the house through the back door, I find Parker finishing his coffee. He glances at me briefly.
«Good morning, Dad,» he says without much enthusiasm. «Odelia left you some oatmeal.» I nod, noticing the bowl on the table.
Cold oatmeal. Two years ago, Odelia made me omelets and joked that I was as picky about food as her father. Now it’s cold oatmeal.
Progress. «Thanks, son. Are you working late today?» Parker shrugs, his eyes still on his phone.
«As usual. Lots of inspections, even more paperwork.» He gets up, putting the cup in the dishwasher. I notice that he didn’t wash the pan after making himself scrambled eggs.
Of course, I’ll wash it. «We’ll be late today,» he says, heading for the door. «Bridget has rehearsal, then Odelia and I are going out for dinner. Don’t wait up for us.»
The door closes before I have time to respond. I am left alone in the kitchen with cold oatmeal and an unwashed frying pan, a typical morning in the house I helped buy.
After breakfast, I go about my usual chores: cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, dusting. Odelia never asked me to do this, but I know that if I don’t, she’ll sigh irritably in the evening, muttering something about men who can’t keep the house tidy. At noon, I make myself a sandwich and sit down at my old laptop.
I check my email, mostly newsletters and bill notifications. I still pay for part of the utilities, even though no one asked me to. It’s my initiative, my attempt not to be a burden.
The phone rings. It’s Emmett, my old friend from college. He’s the only one who calls me regularly.
«Cedric, old man, how are you?» His voice is full of energy, as always. Emmett is also 67, but unlike me, he refuses to grow old. He runs a small investment fund, plays golf on the weekends, and recently married for the third time to a woman 15 years his junior.
«Same old, same old, Emmett.»
«So you’re still putting up with those ungrateful kids?» He doesn’t hide his opinion of my situation. «Listen, I’m going to The Old Maple tomorrow. Want to join me? It’s been a while.»
The Old Maple is a small bar in downtown Lexington where we sometimes meet. I agree. I need to clear my head.
After our conversation, I pull an old ledger out from under my mattress. No one knows it exists. Here I keep track of how much I’ve invested in Parker’s house, how much I pay for utilities each month, and what other expenses I cover.
And since last year, I’ve started writing down every dismissive remark, every cold look. It’s silly to keep such a record of insults, but I can’t stop. Today’s entry: «cold oatmeal, didn’t say thank you for cleaning up, didn’t invite me to dinner.»
I close the book and put it back in its hiding place. Why am I doing this? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a kind of therapy. Maybe it’s proof to myself that I’m not going crazy, that my feelings are justified.
In the evening, I’m sitting in my room rereading Dickens when I hear Bridget coming home. She knocks on my door, the only one who always does that. «Grandpa, may I?»
She comes in with her backpack and plops down on the edge of my bed. «How was rehearsal?» I ask, putting down my book.
«Boring.» She wrinkles her nose. «Mr. Patterson criticized everyone again. He said I’m not emotional enough for Juliet.»
«Juliet, huh?» I smile. «Want to read it together? I was pretty good in amateur theater when I was younger.»
Her eyes light up, and for the next hour, we read Shakespeare, acting out scenes. Bridget laughs when I try to portray Romeo by dropping to one knee. My sore knee protests, but I endure.
When Parker and Odelia return from dinner, we are still rehearsing. I hear their footsteps and voices. «Bridget,» Odelia calls. «It’s late. School tomorrow.»
My granddaughter sighs. «I’m coming, Mom,» she shouts, then adds in a whisper, «Thanks, Grandpa. Juliet is better with you.»
She slips out, and a minute later, Parker pokes his head in the door. «Dad, we asked you not to keep Bridget up late. She needs her sleep.»
«We were rehearsing her part for the school play,» I explain.
«That’s what teachers are for,» he snaps. «Good night.»
The door closes, and I am left alone. I can hear the three of them talking and laughing in the house. Family. I used to be part of it.
Before going to bed, I take out my book again and make another entry. «Doesn’t want me to help Bridget with her acting. Pushes his granddaughter away.» Closing the book, I remember Miriam’s last words.
She was lying in her hospital bed, transparent as paper, holding my hand. «Cedric,» she whispered. «Don’t let them take your dignity. Promise me.»
I promised, not fully understanding what she meant. Now I’m beginning to understand. As I lie in bed, I think about what Emmett would say if he knew the whole truth about how I’m being treated in the house I paid most of the money for.
Sleep comes slowly, fitfully, and restlessly, like all my nights in this addition I call home.
The Old Maple has hardly changed in the last 20 years. The same wood paneling on the walls, the same worn leather seats in the booths, the same smell of beer and old wood. I arrived before Emmett, took our usual booth in the corner, and ordered a ginger ale.
I gave up alcohol five years ago because of my blood pressure medication. «Cedric Hall, you look like a man who’s about to go under,» boomed a familiar voice. Emmett Pryor never entered a room. He always burst in.
Tall, with a shock of gray hair, he wore a bright blue jacket that would have looked ridiculous on any other 67-year-old man, but not on him.
«Good to see you, Emmett,» I said, getting up to hug my old friend.
«You’re lying through your teeth,» he laughed, sitting down across from me, «but I’m glad to see you anyway. Whiskey, Tom,» he called to the bartender, who just nodded in response.
Emmett was the only constant in my life since college. We met in our freshman year when we were both studying finance. I went into accounting, he went into investments, and he never missed an opportunity to point out that he had made the right choice.
«How’s your new wife?» I asked when Tom brought the whiskey.
«Phoebe is wonderful.» Emmett took a sip from his glass. «She’s organizing a charity event next month. You should come, Cedric. Get out of your little house, have some fun.»
I shook my head. «You know I’m not good at these kinds of events.»
«I know your son and his wife keep you on a short leash.» His voice suddenly became serious. «How long is this going to last?»
«It’s my choice, Emmett,» I sighed. «They’re my family.»
«Family doesn’t make you feel like a burden,» he tapped his fingers on the table, as he always did when he was annoyed. «But that’s not why I called you here.» He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
«Remember that investment we made six years ago? The tech company Orion Security?»
I nodded. Shortly before Miriam’s death, Emmett had convinced me to invest some of my savings in a cybersecurity startup. The amount was small but significant, about $30,000. Miriam thought it was a whim, but she didn’t object. «You deserve a little madness,» she said at the time.
«What about them?» I asked, sipping my ginger ale.
Emmett smiled broadly, his eyes shining like a boy’s. «They went public three months ago. The stock has skyrocketed. I waited to make sure it wasn’t a temporary spike before telling you.»
He took a folded piece of paper from his jacket’s inside pocket and placed it in front of me. «Here’s the account statement.»
I slowly unfolded the paper, put on my glasses, and stared at the numbers. I blinked. I looked again. «Is this… Is this a mistake?»
«No mistake, old man,» Emmett saluted me with his glass. «Your $30,000 has turned into $483,000. After taxes, that’s about $350,000 net.»
My hands trembled, and I put the paper down on the table. «My God,» I whispered.
«This is… This is freedom, Cedric.» Emmett covered my hand with his. «Freedom from your ungrateful son and his wife. Freedom to start a new life.»
I stared at the statement, unable to take my eyes off the numbers. $350,000. In Lexington, that money could buy a decent apartment or even a small house. «Emmett, I don’t know what to say.»
«Tell them you’re finally moving out,» he squeezed my hand. «I can’t stand watching how they treat you anymore. Miriam would turn over in her grave.»
The mention of Miriam brought a lump to my throat. What would she say now? What advice would she give? «I need to think about it,» I finally said.
«Of course,» Emmett nodded, «but not too long. Life is short, especially at our age.»
We spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about old times. College, our first jobs, how I met Miriam at a party Emmett threw. He talked about his travels with Phoebe, his plans for the future.
«You know, we’re thinking about getting a house in Spain,» he said, ordering a third whiskey. «You should come with us next year. Mediterranean diet, Spanish beauties. You’ll shake things up.»
I smiled, but my thoughts were far away. I imagined a life without daily humiliation, without Odilia’s cold stares, without the disappointment in Parker’s eyes. A life where I could see Bridget without feeling like an unwelcome guest.
«I have to go,» I said, glancing at my watch. It was almost ten. «I have to get up early tomorrow.»
«Why?» Emmett snorted. «You’re retired. You can sleep until noon.»
«Habit,» I shrugged. Emmett insisted that his driver take me home. The luxurious sedan pulled up softly in front of Parker’s house at eleven o’clock in the evening.
«Think about what I said,» Emmett patted me on the shoulder. «You deserve better, Cedric, and now you can afford it.»
I nodded, thanked him for the evening, and got out of the car. The house was dark, with only a dim light on in the living room. I quietly opened the door with my key and was about to sneak into the annex when I heard voices coming from the living room.
«Not the same as he used to be,» Parker said. «Yesterday I noticed he forgot to turn off the water in the garden. We spent an extra thirty dollars on the bill.»
«I told you,» it was Odelia’s voice, low and irritated. «We can’t watch over him forever. We have our own lives.»
I froze in the hallway, holding on to the wall. They were talking about me, unaware that I had already returned.
«I looked on the internet,» Odelia continued. «Golden Years is an excellent nursing home not far from here. They have single rooms, three meals a day, and nurses on duty around the clock.»
«He won’t agree,» Parker sighed. «You know my father.»
«He’s in no position to refuse,» Odelia’s voice hardened. «Where will he go? His pension would only be enough for a room in the slums, and we’ll finally turn the extension into a home gym, just as we planned.»
I felt nausea rising in my throat. A gym. That’s what I was to them. An obstacle to a gym.
«We need to talk to Dr. Lewis,» Parker said. «If he confirms that Dad needs constant care, we can put him there, and not feel guilty.»
«Honey,» Odelia’s voice softened. «We’re not doing anything wrong. Your father will be better off there. Professional care, interaction with his peers, and we’ll be able to live our own lives.»
I slowly backed away toward the door, trying not to make any noise. I went outside and only then allowed myself to take a deep breath. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding.
I walked around the house and entered the annex through a separate entrance, locked the door, and sat down on the bed. A nursing home. That was their plan. Get rid of me. Free up space for a gym.
But what about the money I invested in this house? What about Parker’s promise that it would be my home for the rest of my days? I took my account book from under the mattress and opened the last page.
«They plan to send me to a nursing home,» I wrote with a trembling hand. «They want to turn my room into a gym.»
Then I flipped back to the first pages, where I had recorded all the money I had invested in the house. $240,000, the initial payment, plus monthly utility bills, roof repairs two years ago, a new air conditioner last summer. Everything was neatly recorded, all receipts saved and filed in a separate folder, which was kept in a safe deposit box at the bank.
I had always been an accountant. Even when I trusted people, I kept records. Miriam would shake her head now and say, «I told you, Cedric, you should have made it official.» She was always more practical than me.
I took out my phone and opened a message from Emmett that I had received before we met. «If you decide to go ahead, I know a good lawyer. Price specializes in family law and real estate. First rate.»
Now, sitting in the silence of my room, which they had already mentally turned into a gym, I made my decision.
In the morning, I waited until everyone left. Parker went to work. Odelia took Bridget to school and went to the office. Then I dialed the number from Emmett’s message.
«Price and Partners law firm. How can I help you?» a woman’s voice answered.
«I need to consult with Mr. Price,» I said, surprised at the firmness of my own voice, «about joint ownership of real estate. I was referred by Emmett Pryor.»
«One moment, please.» A few seconds later, a deep male voice came on the line. «Hugh Price speaking. Are you a friend of Emmett’s?»
«Yes. My name is Cedric Hall. I need advice on a delicate matter.»
«Emmett warned me you might call,» Price said. «I can see you today at two, if that’s okay with you.»
I agreed and wrote down the address. Then I called Emmett.
«You got in touch with Price. Great,» he exclaimed when I told him the news. «Do you want me to come pick you up?»
«No need,» I replied. «I’ll take the bus. I need to be alone, to think.»
«I understand,» Emmett’s voice softened. «But know that I will support whatever decision you make.»
At half past one, I was sitting in the reception area of Price and Partners, a law firm located in a glass business center in Lexington’s business district. My checkbook and a folder with copies of checks, which I had picked up from the bank on the way, were in my briefcase on my lap.
«Mr. Hall, Mr. Price is ready to see you,» the secretary said.
I walked into a spacious office where Hugh Price, a stocky man in his 50s with a neat haircut and attentive eyes, was sitting at a massive desk. «Mr. Hall, please,» he said, pointing to a chair opposite him. «Emmett speaks very highly of you.»
«We’ve known each other for almost half a century,» I said, sitting down with my briefcase on my lap.
«So,» Price said, folding his hands on the table, «tell me how I can help you.»
I took a deep breath and began my story: about Miriam’s death, about selling our house, about the money invested in our son’s house, about promises that were not kept, and finally about the conversation I overheard. Price listened attentively, taking notes.
When I finished, he leaned back in his chair. «So, there are no official documents confirming your ownership of the house?»
«No,» I shook my head. «Only checks and bank statements confirming that the money was transferred from the account where the proceeds from the sale of my wife’s and my house were kept.» I took out a folder with documents and an accounting book.
«It’s all here,» I said, placing them on the table. «Every cent is accounted for.»
Price glanced through the documents, his eyebrows rising. «An impressive sum, Mr. Hall, and very thorough documentation.»
«I was an accountant for 42 years,» I shrugged. «It’s a habit.»
«A very useful habit in this case,» Price smiled. «Mr. Hall, at first glance, you have grounds for a claim for recognition of a share in the ownership of the property. It’s called an implied trust, when one party invests significant funds in the other party’s property with an implied agreement of shared ownership.»
He tapped his pen on the table as he thought. «It’s not a simple case, given the lack of a written contract, but your documentation plus witness testimony—for example, from your friend Emmett, if he was aware of the agreement—could create a strong case. What… What will happen to my son? To his family?» I asked, suddenly feeling a heaviness in my chest.
«They may be forced to either buy out your share at market value or sell the house and divide the proceeds according to your contribution,» Price said gently but directly. «This could cause tension in family relationships.»
I smiled bitterly. «Those relations are already stretched to the limit. They want to send me to a nursing home, Mr. Price, so they can turn my room into a gym, a room and a house bought with my money.»
Price nodded, his gaze becoming sympathetic. «I understand. Mr. Hall, here’s what I suggest. I’ll study your documents in detail and prepare a preliminary legal opinion. Then we’ll meet again, and I’ll present you with all the possible courses of action and their potential consequences. The decision, of course, will be yours.»
«How long will that take?»
«Give me a week,» he said. «I want to be sure we’ve considered all aspects.»
I nodded, feeling both determination and fear. There would be no turning back if I went down this path. But did I have a choice? Allow them to send me to a nursing home? To take away the last shreds of my dignity?
«Don’t let them take your dignity,» Miriam’s voice whispered in my memory.
«I agree,» I said, shaking Price’s hand. «In a week.»
Leaving the office, I took a deep breath of the cool autumn air. Something had changed. For the first time in a long time, I felt in control of my life.
I had money that no one knew about. I had a plan. And even though Parker and Odelia didn’t know it yet, their lives were about to change as dramatically as they had planned to change mine.
The week after my meeting with the lawyer dragged on painfully slowly. Every night I returned to the annex, which they had already mentally turned into a gym, and lay awake, running through different scenarios in my head. I continued to pretend that nothing had changed. Cleaning the house. Cooking dinner, which Parker and Odelia rarely appreciated. Helping Bridget with her homework.
Hugh Price called me on Wednesday when I was home alone. «Mr. Hall, I’ve reviewed all the documents.» His voice sounded confident. «We have a good case. Not perfect, but with a high chance of success. When would be a good time to meet for a detailed discussion?»
We agreed to meet next week. A plan was slowly but surely forming in my head, like minerals crystallizing underground. Invisible to the eye, but with inevitable certainty.
On Friday, Parker announced at breakfast that they were having a family dinner on Sunday evening. «It’s been a long time since we’ve all gotten together,» he said without looking at me. «Bridget needs more family traditions.»
I nodded, feeling a strange premonition. Parker didn’t usually care about family traditions. Something was up, and I suspected I knew what it was. The conversation about the nursing home. A formal notice that I was being evicted from the annex.
«I’ll make something special,» I offered.
«No need,» Odelia replied quickly. «I’ll order from Lorenzo’s. Their lasagna is divine.»
The Italian restaurant Lorenzo’s was Parker’s favorite place. Odelia only ordered from there on special occasions, or when she wanted to soften Parker up before a difficult conversation. Yes, something was definitely brewing.
On Sunday, I woke up with the first rays of the sun. I did my usual back exercises, drank tea, and checked the news on my tablet. At 10 o’clock, I got a message from Emmett.
«How’s it going, old friend? Price said you’ve got a good case. Call me if you need help. I’m always on your side.»
I smiled as I reread the message. Emmett had always been there for me, from college until now. Even when Miriam and I were too busy to keep up with our friendship, he still called, visited, and invited us to dinners and celebrations. Such loyalty is rare.
The day dragged on slowly. Bridget was at a friend’s house. Odelia was preparing for dinner. Parker was tinkering with the car in the garage. I tried to stay away from home, wandering around the neighborhood, sitting in the park with a book, as if preparing for battle, gathering strength.
At 6 o’clock in the evening, the doorbell rang. A delivery from Lorenzo’s. I helped Odelia set the table, noticing that she had ordered my favorite salad with arugula and pear. It was a small gesture that might have touched me if I hadn’t known about their plans.
Bridget returned, beaming after a day with her friend. She hugged me, telling me about the new movie they had seen. «Grandpa, you would have loved it. There was this old detective, smart like you. He outsmarted everyone in the end.»
«Sounds interesting, sweetheart,» I smiled, stroking her hair.
By 7:00, everything was ready. We sat down at the table. Parker at the head, Odelia to his right, Bridget to his left, and me across from him. It was the perfect picture of a family dinner. Odelia even lit the candles.
«So,» Parker began after we had filled our plates. «Mom and I have some news.»
Here it is. I tensed up inside but continued eating, trying to look calm.
«We’ve decided to make some changes to the house,» he continued, exchanging glances with Odelia.
«Oh, are we going to renovate?» Bridget asked enthusiastically. «Can I repaint my room?»
«Not exactly, dear,» Odelia smiled. «We’re thinking about remodeling Grandpa’s annex.»
I felt my stomach tighten. They were really going to say it at dinner, right in front of Bridget.
«Where will Grandpa move to?» His granddaughter asked in confusion.
Parker cleared his throat, adjusting his shirt collar. «You see, we think Grandpa would be better off in a special place. Their professionals will take care of him, and he’ll be able to socialize with people his own age.»
«You want to send Grandpa to a nursing home?» Bridget sat up straight, her eyes widening in shock.
«Golden Years isn’t just a nursing home,» Odelia quickly interjected. «It’s a premium facility with personalized care, entertainment, excursions…»
«But Grandpa isn’t old or sick,» Bridget exclaimed. «He helps me with my homework. He’s better at math than you are!»
«Bridget,» Parker’s tone became harsher. «This is an adult decision. Grandpa sometimes forgets things. It’s hard for him to take care of himself.»
«That’s not true,» Bridget turned to me. «Grandpa, tell them.»
I slowly put down my fork and wiped my lips with a napkin. All eyes were on me. I felt anger building up inside me. Anger that had been building up for years. But I forced myself to speak calmly.
«Parker, Odelia, I appreciate your concern, but I am perfectly capable of living on my own.»
«Dad,» Parker leaned forward, his voice condescending, as if he were talking to a child. «We’ve thought this through. Your pension will be enough to live in Golden Years if we add a little extra.»
«If you add a little extra,» I repeated, feeling my voice tremble, «to my pension, which is barely enough for a room in a dormitory.»
«We want what’s best for you,» Odelia added with a fake smile. «Imagine, you won’t have to cook or clean.»
«I like to cook and clean,» I replied, «and I’m still strong enough to do it, despite what you say.»
Parker sighed and exchanged glances with Odelia. «Dad, be reasonable. We need more space. Bridget is growing up. She needs a room for her studies.»
«I don’t need a room for my studies,» Bridget protested. «I want Grandpa to stay.»
«Quiet,» Parker scolded her. «Adults are talking.»
I looked at the son I had raised, whom I loved with all my heart, and saw a stranger before me. When did he become like this? When did my presence become an inconvenience that needed to be removed?
«Parker,» I began slowly. «This house was bought mainly with my money.»
Silence hung in the kitchen. Bridget shifted her gaze from me to her parents. Odelia froze with a fork in her hand.
«What do you mean?» Parker asked, his voice tense.
«I mean that the $240,000 I put down as a down payment was 70% of the cost of the house at the time of purchase.»
«It was your gift,» Parker said slowly. «You said so yourself.»
«I said I would help you buy a house. In return, I expected a place in the family, not eviction, when I became inconvenient.»
Parker’s face reddened. «We’re offering you better terms than you deserve.» His voice grew louder. «You forget to turn off the water, the stove. You’re becoming a danger to yourself and to us.»
«Parker,» Odelia said warningly, putting her hand on his shoulder.
But he shook it off. «No, let him know the truth.» He jumped up, looming over the table. «We’ve put up with you for four years. You live in our house, eat our food…»
«Which I cook myself and partially pay for,» I remarked, maintaining outward calm, though my heart was pounding.
«And you dare to make demands?» Parker was almost shouting now. «You’re the worst father, living off us.»
Bridget gasped, and Odelia froze. A heavy silence hung in the room, broken only by Parker’s heavy breathing. I slowly stood up, looking my son straight in the eye.
«I’ll make sure I disappear from your life today,» I said quietly but firmly.
Parker snorted, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He exchanged glances with Odelia, and they both smirked. «Sure, Dad,» he said condescendingly. «Where are you going to go? Sleep on a park bench?»
«Didn’t you just say I’m a danger to myself?» I asked with a bitter smile. «Make up your mind, son.»
Odelia laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. «Cedric, let’s all calm down,» she said conciliatorily. «We can discuss the details later. Right now, let’s just have dinner as a family.»
As a family! Those last two words sounded like the final nail in the coffin to me. Family. What did they know about family?
«Bridget,» I turned to my granddaughter, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears. «I love you, baby. Don’t forget that.»
«Grandpa…» She started to get up, but Parker put his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.
I nodded as if making a decision and left the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Odelia whisper, «He’s just upset. He’ll calm down tomorrow.»
Parker replied, «Let him get some fresh air. Where’s he going to go?»
In my room, I took my time. I took an old suitcase out of the closet, one I had brought from Miriam’s in my house. I carefully packed several sets of clothes, toiletries, and photo albums that I had collected over the years.
I took a framed photo off the shelf. Me, Miriam, and little Parker on the beach. It was easy for all of us to smile back then. I ran my finger over Miriam’s face, then over my little son’s face.
