“You recognized me?”
“During your first week.”
“And you never said anything?”
“I almost did many times. But you were always polite and distant. Busy. Guarded. I realized you weren’t ready.”
I looked at the letter in my hands.
“And now?”
“Now you’ve spent three weeks sitting beside my bed at nine every evening telling me how badly you failed your mother.”
Susan squeezed my hand.
“You needed to hear her answer in her own words.”
Then Susan slowly turned toward Greg.
“And now you know why Sam asked me to stay here.”
Greg looked ashamed.
“I thought he wanted the house.”
Susan’s expression changed immediately.
“You thought about my house because apparently that was what you were thinking about.”
Greg went silent.
“Five years,” Susan continued. “Not one visit for five years. Then suddenly you hear I’m seriously ill, and everyone remembers how to find my street.”
Laura began crying.
“I kept meaning to come, Grandma. Work got busy. Then I got married. Then we moved. Every time I planned a trip, something happened.”
Susan nodded sadly.
“There is always something.”
She pointed toward me.
“When I could no longer take care of myself, Sam walked across the street. He never asked how much money I had. He never asked who would inherit my house. He asked if I had eaten.”
Marcy wiped her face.
“He drove me to appointments. He cooked for me. When I was frightened at night, he sat beside me. When I couldn’t sleep, he stayed awake.”
Greg lowered his eyes.
“We didn’t know.”
“No,” Susan replied. “You didn’t.”
Then she looked toward the police officer.
“There is no abuse here. I don’t need anyone to rescue me. I chose to stay in Sam’s home, and I want to remain here.”
The officer nodded.
Greg slowly closed the folder he had been carrying.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
I looked at him.
“I’m not the person you owe an apology to.”
Greg turned toward his mother.
Susan raised one hand before he could speak.
“I don’t want speeches.”
“What do you want, Mom?”
Susan looked at Greg, Marcy, and Laura.
“I want my family.”
Laura began crying harder.
Susan’s voice softened.
“If all of you have time to argue about what happens after I’m gone, then you have time to sit with me while I’m still here.”
Nobody had an answer for that.
So they stayed.
PART 3
That afternoon, something changed inside my house.
Greg made tea.
Laura helped Susan wash her hair.
Marcy replaced the sheets in the spare bedroom and organized Susan’s medication table.
The officer left after confirming once again that Susan was safe, mentally aware, and staying with me because she wanted to.
By evening, the neighborhood finally became quiet.
At 8:55, Greg stood near the front door.
“We’ll let you two have your usual time.”
I glanced toward Susan’s room.
For the first time since she had moved in, the approach of nine o’clock didn’t fill my chest with dread.
I carried her medicine inside.
Susan swallowed it, grimaced, then handed the glass back to me.
“Terrible.”
“You say that every night.”
“Because it tastes terrible every night.”
I laughed and pulled the same wooden chair beside her bed.
Susan studied me for a moment.
“Well?”
I looked down at my mother’s letter.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to confess tonight.”
Susan smiled.
“That sounds like improvement.”
I laughed quietly.
Then another question came to me.
“Was that why you agreed to come here?”
“What?”
“Because of my mother. Because you had the letters.”
“Partly.”
“What was the other reason?”
Her smile disappeared.
For a few seconds, Susan looked toward the window.
Then she whispered, “I was afraid.”
The answer hurt more than I expected.
