Chapter 11 - Mom and Dad Did Not Bury Me
Jenna called them before she left the driveway.
Of course.
Mom called me eleven minutes later.
“What did you do?”
Interesting opening.
“Hello, Mom.”
“You threw your sister out?”
“She doesn’t live here.”
“She said you took her key.”
“Yes.”
“She said you’re selling today.”
“No.”
“I’m meeting the broker today.”
“That is not what your father and I agreed.”
I stared at the ocean.
“Agreed with whom?”
Silence.
Then:
“Daryl.”
“No.”
“Answer.”
“We discussed it.”
“You told me not to sell.”
“Yes.”
“You do not own it.”
Mom became angry.
“This is exactly what money has done to you.”
That sentence almost worked.
Old button.
I asked:
“What exactly has money done?”
“You count everything.”
“No.”
“For years I didn’t count anything.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
She went quiet.
Then Dad came on.
“Son.”
“Dad.”
“Don’t make permanent decisions while you’re mad.”
“The broker appointment was scheduled before today.”
Pause.
Good.
Then:
“What happened with Jenna?”
I told:
the boat,
the insult,
the slap.
Dad sighed.
Not disbelief.
Weariness.
He knew his daughter.
“She shouldn’t have hit you.”
“No.”
“But selling the place punishes everyone.”
There.
The property as family benefit.
I answered:
“I’m not selling it to punish anyone.”
“I’m selling because it no longer fits my life with Eli.”
Then:
“And your access to something I own is not a reason I must keep owning it.”
My father had no immediate answer.
Neither did I for decades.
That sentence changed our family more than:
May you like
the sale.
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