He gestured toward my mother.
“Your mother likes staying busy. It gives her purpose.”
I stared at him for several seconds.
Then I said:
“You have thirty minutes to pack your clothes and leave.”
Kloe shot up from the sofa.
“You can’t do that.”
“I just did.”
“We’ve lived here for two years!”
She pointed at my mother.
“Mom let us stay. This is our home too.”
Julian moved beside her.
Suddenly, he seemed more confident.
“She’s right.”
He took a slow sip of his drink.
“Texas law protects established residents. You can’t just show up after six years and throw people out without notice.”
He smiled.
“So why don’t you calm down, get a hotel, and we’ll discuss this tomorrow like adults?”
My mother’s fingers tightened around mine.
Julian mistook my silence for hesitation.
He smiled.
That was his mistake.
I looked at my watch.
4:30 p.m.
“You think you’re tenants?” I asked.
Kloe folded her arms.
Julian shrugged.
I nodded once.
“Then let’s see what the law says by nine tonight.”
I didn’t argue with them.
I didn’t threaten them.
I didn’t scream.
Instead, I took my mother upstairs long enough to collect the few belongings they had allowed her to keep in the small room near the garage.
Then we left.
Five miles away, I checked her into a quiet hotel suite.
I ordered her a hot meal.
I arranged for a nurse to examine her knees.
For the first time in what felt like years, my mother was sitting somewhere where nobody expected her to clean anything.
