Chapter 7 - Judith Moved Me Upstairs “So I Could Rest”
Judith’s guest room was on the second floor.
Then her sister planned a three-week visit.
Judith said:
“We need the room.”
“What about me?”
“The attic has the daybed.”
The attic was technically finished enough to use:
wooden floor,
small window,
outlets.
But still:
exposed insulation on one side,
low ceiling,
hot during the afternoon.
I said:
“No.”
Ryan answered:
“It’s temporary.”
I laughed bitterly.
Everything was:
temporary.
The first night, Ryan carried my bag upstairs.
Judith brought:
water,
snacks,
medication.
Then she said:
“This might actually be better.”
“Less temptation.”
I stared.
“What temptation?”
“Kitchen.”
That should have ended:
everything.
Instead I said:
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
She rolled her eyes.
Then left.
I heard:
the door close.
Then:
click.
I opened it.
Locked.
I called:
Ryan.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
“The attic door is locked.”
“Mom probably latched it by accident.”
“Open it.”
He came up.
Opened:
it.
Then laughed.
“See?”
“Accident.”
But the next afternoon, it happened:
again.
Then again.
Judith said:
“You sleepwalk when your blood sugar drops.”
I did not.
She said she was:
“being safe.”
I told Ryan:
“This stops.”
He said:
“I’ll talk to her.”
He did not.
Or if he did, nothing changed.
That was when the attic stopped being:
a room.
It became:
May you like
containment.
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