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“Mom found herself a place to live.”
“What? How? Where?” Her voice bounced off the stairwell in front of her and echoed around the carport.
“You know that handyman the landlord always sent to fix shit?”
A vague memory of a pot-bellied man with longish gray hair and a predilection for tie-dyed shirts surfaced. “Jake?”
“Blake.”
“Whatever.” She’d only met him once, when he came to fix the disposal.
“She’s moving in with him.”
Esther stopped in her tracks, halfway up the stairs. “What?” The word reverberated back at her.
“She says they’re in love, although I’m pretty sure it’s his ability to pay rent she’s in love with.”
“But…” Esther didn’t actually have a follow-up. She didn’t know how to react at all.
“I know,” Eric said.
She tried to remember what Jake—Blake—was like. He wasn’t very memorable; she couldn’t even picture his face. He’d seemed fine though? As best she could recall. Cheerful. Polite. He hadn’t set off any alarm bells or given off serial killer vibes. Of course, she hadn’t been evaluating him as a potential live-in love interest for her mother. He was just the guy who was there to install a new disposal.
“Is that— Are you okay with that?” she asked Eric as she started up the steps again.
“I’m okay with the fact that Mom isn’t going to be sleeping on my couch. I’ve decided the rest isn’t my business.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
“How’s it going so far?” Her steps slowed as she approached Jonathan’s apartment, torn between dreading another chance encounter and hoping for one. The blinds in the front window were drawn again, but there were lights on inside. She stared at them as she walked past, wondering what he was doing tonight, and who he was doing it with. Was his new lady friend in there right now? Was she drinking his coffee, and reading his scripts, and having sex with him in the same bed Esther had slept in?
“Look, Mom’s gonna do what she’s gonna do,” Eric said as Esther fumbled her keys out of her purse and unlocked her door. “Even if I wanted to raise an objection, it wouldn’t work.”
It was a fair point, Esther conceded as she let herself into her apartment and flipped on the lights. Once their mother had set her sights on something, it was almost impossible to talk her out of it. When she’d announced she was marrying that artist, Ian, Esther had pointed out that she’d lose her alimony, and that she hadn’t known Ian for that long. That maybe it would be better to wait, just to make sure this was really what she wanted. Her mother had responded by eloping to Vegas without telling anyone. The marriage had lasted for all of a year.
“Honestly, the person I’m most worried about is Blake,” Eric said. “I’m not sure he knows what he’s getting himself into.”
“How much do you know about him?” Esther deposited her bags on the dining table and headed into the kitchen to feed Sally. “Is he a decent guy?”
“He seems okay. You know the kind of guys Mom goes for. He’s probably fine.”
Their mother had an affinity for men who wanted to take care of her. They tended to be kind, dutiful, and pliant. Susceptible to her charms and easily manipulated. Ian had been that way, and so had their father. Until they’d both reached their limits and grown a backbone. It had just taken her father thirteen years longer than Ian.
“So that’s it?” Esther said, dumping a scoop of food into Sally’s bowl. “We’re letting her do this?”
“There’s no letting involved. She’s a grown woman. She makes her own decisions.”
“Until she digs herself into a hole she can’t dig herself out of. Then she’ll come running back for help.” Esther wandered into the living room, toed off her shoes, and sank down on the couch. “What happens when the relationship combusts and she’s out on the street again?”
“Then she’ll have to figure something else out for herself. I’m done. That’s what I told her.”
Esther wasn’t confident Eric’s edict would stick, but good for him for making it. “Okay, then. Crisis averted, I guess.”
So, this thing she’d been stressing herself out about for weeks had just…resolved itself with no effort on her part. See? You don’t always need to swoop in and solve everyone’s problems for them. Sometimes things work out just fine without your intervention.
“I told you she’d figure something out on her own if we refused to do it.”
