“Five minutes,” I said.
He sat on the edge of the sofa. I remained in the chair opposite him.
For years, conversations like this had ended with me moving beside him. A hand on his shoulder. A softened question. Something that let him tell himself the worst was over.
I kept my hands in my lap.
“Did you know she meant to borrow against my condo?”
He stared at the rug.
“Caleb.”
“She said it would be temporary.”
“How temporary?”
“Until the investment paid out.”
“What investment?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Dennis wanted to buy into a waterfront development. Harper said the return would clear our debt and pay everything back.”
“And where was the money supposed to come from?”
He finally looked at me. “Your equity.”
The room seemed unusually bright. I could see every small thing clearly, the thread lifting from his shirt cuff, the damp ring his water glass had left on the coaster.
“Without asking me?”
He nodded.
“How much did you think she was taking?”
“Maybe fifty thousand.”
I waited for him to hear himself.
“I know how that sounds,” he said.
“It sounds like you thought the amount would make a difference.”
“I didn’t know she forged your signature. I didn’t know about six hundred forty thousand.”
“But you knew enough to ask questions.”
“Yes.”
“And you chose not to.”
His eyes filled.
Six months earlier, I had lent them forty thousand dollars. Harper had cried at my kitchen table. Caleb had said they needed breathing room. I had written a check because I remembered being young and frightened by bills. There had been no contract. I hadn’t wanted my son to feel like a borrower in his mother’s house.
Now I wondered how they had described that check after they left.
“Where did the forty thousand go?” I asked.
“Credit cards. Some of it. I thought all of it.”
“You thought.”
“I let her handle things.”
“You let her handle things that involved me.”
He put his face in his hands.
I gave him a moment. Then I asked the question that had kept me awake.
“Why did you let her put me out?”
He lowered his hands. “Mom—”
“You knew this place mattered to me. You knew I wasn’t living here because I wanted an impressive address.”
“I know.”
“You stood there while they laughed.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me why.”
He looked toward the balcony.
“Because disagreeing with Harper always costs something,” he said. “And disappointing you never did.”
I sat very still.
He began apologizing, but I raised my hand. For once, he had answered honestly. I didn’t want him covering it with words.
I had been proud of being the parent he could count on. I had thought patience taught him that love was steady. Somewhere along the way, he had learned that I could be hurt without anything changing.
“I love you,” I told him.
He lifted his head.
“But I’m not calling Marcus tomorrow to make this easier for you.”
“I wasn’t asking—”