Something inside me softened.
The children knew nothing.
To them, Hawaii had been beaches, hotel breakfasts, sunscreen, and a week without homework.
Good.
That was exactly how it should remain.
“Will you be home when we get there?” Emily asked.
The question caught me.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Where are you?”
“I have an apartment for a little while.”
Silence.
“Why?”
I chose my words carefully.
“Because sometimes grown-ups realize they need to change something in their lives.”
“Did we do something?”
“No.”
I answered so quickly that there could be no doubt.
“You and Jack did absolutely nothing. I love you both exactly the same as I did before your trip.”
“Are you still coming to my winter concert?”
“Front row if they let me.”
“They won’t. Parents sit in rows.”
“Then the best row available.”
That satisfied her.
After we hung up, I sat on my sofa and cried for the first time.
Not because Daniel had left me home.
Not because of the money.
Because an eight-year-old child had immediately wondered whether an adult’s departure was her fault.
I had promised myself I would never let that happen.
At four thirty, Daniel texted.
We’re home. Can you come at six?
I replied.
Yes.
Then, after thinking, I added:
I would prefer that we talk after the children are settled.
Agreed.
At six, I drove back to the house.
My former house.
Their house.
I wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.
Jack opened the door before I rang the bell.
“Grandma!”
He was eleven and had recently begun believing himself too old for enthusiastic affection, but he forgot that rule and hugged me.
Emily appeared behind him holding a paper bag.
