There it was.
The old argument in one sentence.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“You do need an invitation to enter my home.”
Nancy said nothing.
This silence was usually where I gave up.
Where I started negotiating against myself because I couldn’t tolerate her disappointment.
I didn’t.
I waited.
Finally she said, “I’ll think about it.”
Anybody else might have heard rejection.
I knew my mother.
“I’ll think about it” was close to agreement.
Three weeks passed.
Clara gained weight.
I recovered enough to stop moving through the house like every chair was six miles away.
The couch finally arrived.
I learned that three uninterrupted hours of sleep could make me feel almost glamorous.
Krista and I talked twice.
The conversations weren’t profound.
They didn’t need to be.
She told me Nancy had presented the whole arrangement as if I wanted everyone there but was too proud to ask.
“I should’ve called you myself,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Pete found temporary work, and they decided to stay in their apartment while they figured out something more permanent.
Nobody asked about moving into my house again.
On the third Saturday after the confrontation, someone knocked on my front door.
The knock came first.
Not the handle.
I knew who it was before I looked through the window.
Nancy stood on the porch by herself.
She was holding a casserole dish covered in foil.
No suitcase.
No tote bags.
No boxes stacked behind her.
No Gil carrying groceries.
No second car pulling into the driveway.
Just Nancy.
I opened the door.
For a moment we looked at each other.
Then she glanced past me.
“Where’s the baby?”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“Asleep.”
“Oh.”
“She’ll probably wake up soon.”
Nancy nodded.
She looked nervous.
That was unusual enough that I almost didn’t recognize it.
She adjusted the casserole dish in her hands.
Then she asked, “Can I come in?”
Four ordinary words.
I stepped aside.
“Yes.”
Nancy walked into my house.
She didn’t comment on where the couch was placed.
She didn’t ask why I had chosen the curtains.
She didn’t inspect the kitchen.
She put the casserole dish on the counter and waited while I made coffee.
When Clara woke, I brought her into the living room.
Nancy’s face softened immediately.
For a few seconds, she simply watched her.