Chapter 11 - Fiona Finally Moved Without Being Thrown Out
Moving day arrived on a dry September Saturday.
Tucson heat already shimmered over the driveway by nine.
No dramatic eviction.
No black garbage bags.
No police.
A rented moving truck.
Fiona’s friends.
Diane and Robert.
Shannon.
The children ran between rooms carrying:
pillows,
stuffed animals,
small boxes marked in colored tape.
Shannon had expected grief.
Instead the house felt strangely festive.
Maddie claimed the new townhouse had:
“better stairs.”
Owen was excited about a neighbor with a basketball hoop.
Lucy cared mostly that her bedroom had a window seat.
Children often adjusted better than adults predicted.
Fiona stood in her old room staring at the bare walls.
“You know,” she said, “I really did think we might stay another year.”
Shannon leaned against the doorway.
“I know.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“I did.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me earlier that you didn’t?”
Shannon smiled sadly.
“Because I thought changing my mind made me selfish.”
Fiona laughed once.
“I could have helped you practice selfishness.”
“You did.”
Both laughed.
Then silence.
Fiona said:
“I am sorry about the slap.”
Shannon looked at her.
“I know.”
“I keep replaying it.”
“So do I sometimes.”
Fiona’s eyes filled.
“Are we ever going to be normal?”
Shannon thought.
“Probably not the old normal.”
Fiona gave a small smile.
“Good.”
Then the card repayment.
Fiona had already made:
two $175 payments.
No reminders needed.
Shannon did not mention them.
At the new townhouse, Shannon helped carry one box into the kitchen.
Then stopped herself from:
organizing cupboards,
buying furniture,
solving storage.
Fiona caught her.
“You’re dying right now.”
“What?”
“You want to fix that pantry.”
Shannon looked at the narrow shelves.
“It’s offensive.”
Fiona laughed.
“Leave.”
Shannon did.
That evening, for the first time in nearly a year, Shannon returned to an empty house.
No cartoons.
No children’s shoes.
No Diane reorganizing the refrigerator.
No Robert checking the thermostat.
The silence hit harder than she expected.
She walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.
For fifteen minutes she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.
Then her phone buzzed.
A picture from Fiona.
The three kids eating pizza on the townhouse floor.
Caption:
They think this is camping.
Shannon smiled.
She replied:
Tell them I expect my good scissors back.
Fiona:
Absolutely not. New house tax.
Shannon laughed alone in the living room.
The house was quiet.
Not empty.
May you like
There was a difference.
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