A house I had maintained.
A house that no longer needed to carry my family’s dysfunction.
The couple asked if the burgundy recliner was included.
I laughed.
“No.”
They laughed too.
I donated it.
Tessa was furious.
But for once, it wasn’t my problem.
My parents moved into a modest rental apartment.
Tessa moved with them temporarily, although she insisted it was only until her “intention-based home accessories” business took off.
I wished her luck.
Then I stopped paying attention.
Chapter 5: The Real Lesson
A month after the closing, Clare and I stood in the nursery of our new home.
The room was still unfinished.
There were boxes everywhere.
The crib was waiting to be assembled.
Clare stood beside the window, one hand on her stomach.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
I thought about my parents.
The chair.
The shoe.
The laughter.
