I owned the floorboards they walked on. I owned the air they breathed inside these walls. I hadn’t evicted them.
Not yet. I had let them stay, thinking the bank had made a clerical error or granted them a miraculous extension. I wanted to see if they would change.
I wanted to see if, given a second chance, they would be better people. Especially today. Today was Lily’s birthday.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to the back seat. Lily, my beautiful, silent two-year-old, was staring out the window with her large, dark eyes. She didn’t babble like other toddlers.
She didn’t scream. She observed. “Ready to go see Grandma and Grandpa?” I asked, forcing a cheerfulness I didn’t feel.
Lily looked at me and blinked slowly. She reached out a small hand, opening and closing her fingers—her sign for Momma. I got out and lifted her from the car seat, hugging her warm, solid weight against my chest.
Continue reading…
