As I mentioned back when I introduced you to the cast of characters, when we moved to Long Island, it was no secret to Daddy or anyone that Tom and I would have preferred to stay with my mom.
In fact, last summer, when Daddy first offered to let us move in with him, I believe my immediate reaction was panic, followed by fear, dread, sadness brought on by divorced-kid baggage, initial acceptance, then denial and bargaining, and finally reluctant submission to my inevitable doom. Those are the usual steps, right?
But I thought, at least I’ll get a blog out of it.
The initial reason we settled on Daddy’s was that my mom’s house was too small. She also had an apartment but it was already rented and Tom and I felt that the rent was too high anyway (if the goal is to save money). But things changed recently. My mom’s apartment became vacant and she offered us a significant family discount.
So, why don’t we just live with my mom?
“I just feel like Daddy’s made some progress on the house, and if we move out, it will just all fall apart again…” I explained to my mom last week, as she showed me the new paint job in the apartment kitchen.
I didn’t get into my grand plan of helping him fix his whole house and then getting him a girlfriend to help maintain it.
“You feel sorry for him.” she summarized for me.
“Ok but just remember, I stayed there for 18 years because I felt sorry for him…”
The memory of this conversation helps me complete my text message: “It’s complicated but… I feel sorry for my dad.”
I put down my phone and stare at the mini-fridge and Keurig machine in the corner of my bedroom. I think again about the pretty, yellow kitchen in my mom’s apartment.