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“Wait!” my mom runs up behind Nova. She puts her arm around her and walks her back to Mrs. Andover. “I’d like to be her guardian.”
“But your husband said—”
“I don’t care what he said. I can make my own decisions and I’m choosing to take responsibility for her.”
My dad walks up to my mom. “I will not allow this. She is not living here.”
My mom stands up straighter, her arm still firmly around Nova’s shoulder. “Then I’ll move out, get my own place.”
He laughs. “What the hell are you talking about? Have you been drinking?”
“No!” She lets go of Nova and steps up to my dad. “I am doing what I should’ve done years ago.”
“Which is what?” he huffs.
“Leaving you.”
“Penelope, you are being ridiculous. You’re acting like Jenna, like a spoiled child who isn’t getting her way.”
“That’s really what you think of me? That I’m a child?” She takes a calming breath. “I was an attorney. A prosecutor. I had a successful career before I gave it all up to raise our children and give you a perfect home.”
“I have had enough of this. You’re wasting Mrs. Andover’s time. Nova, go downstairs and get your things.”
“Don’t listen to him,” my mom says to Nova. She walks up to Mrs. Andover. “What do I need to do to take over as her guardian?”
“We can sit down and go over it.”
“Penelope, stop this!” my dad says. “You’ve made your point. You’re trying to punish me for what happened 12 years ago, but this is not the way to do it.”
She turns back to him. “I’m not punishing you. I’m doing what I should’ve done back then. I’m giving her a home.”
He points his finger at her. “You do this and it’s over. I am not going through this again.”
“Stephen, it’s been over for a long time,” she calmly says. “You just weren’t paying attention.”
He storms out of the kitchen to the garage, slamming the door on his way out.
My mom smiles at Mrs. Andover. “I promise you, what you saw just now is not typical. This is usually a very calm home.”
“It’s true,” I add, going over to my mom. “I’m her son,” I say to Mrs. Andover. “And I promise you Nova will have a good home if she stays here.”
Mrs. Andover looks over at Nova. “Your file says you’ll be 18 in January.”
“End of January,” she says.
“At which time you’ll be an adult. Do you know where you’ll go after that?”
“She’ll stay with us,” my mom says. “At least until she graduates high school, longer if that’s what she chooses to do.”
“Nova, would you like to stay with these people?” Mrs. Andover asks.
“Yes,” Nova says, glancing at me.
“You have no concerns? No reason for leaving here?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Mrs. Andover turns back to my mom. “Does she have her own room here?”
