Her blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun that sharpened her already sharp features. She asked if I had moved her things in the bathroom again.
I replied that I just wiped down the shelves and that all her jars were exactly where she left them. She squinted at me and said she could not find her hand cream.
It was the one Phillip gave her for their anniversary. I suggested cautiously that it might be in the bedroom while I continued to flip waffles.
She snapped that she always kept it in the bathroom drawer with all her other things that I was always moving around. Jace snorted softly behind me while his eyes remained glued to his tablet.
Skyler rolled her eyes. She told her mother that she saw the cream on the nightstand before she stuffed the last bite of waffle into her mouth and left.
Melinda pursed her lips and offered no thanks to her daughter or to me. She simply turned and left, trailing expensive perfume and unspoken grievances behind her.
I placed the finished waffles on a large plate beside the maple syrup. Phillip appeared just as I finished washing the pan.
At forty two, with a receding hairline and a slight paunch, he still looked like the little boy I used to carry in my arms. He was my only son, my pride, and my pain.
He yawned and called me a miracle as he looked at the waffles. In moments like these, I wanted to believe that not all was lost.
I wanted to believe my boy was still in there beneath the tired and passive man who let his wife rule his mother’s house. I told him with a smile that his father always said a Saturday without waffles was not a Saturday.
Phillip nodded but avoided my gaze. We both knew he did not like me talking about George.
It reminded him how much had changed since his father’s death five years earlier. Melinda returned to the kitchen and held the hand cream out demonstratively.
She announced that it was on the nightstand just like Skyler said. She glanced at me and told me not to touch her things next time because everyone needs personal space.
I nodded silently though a thousand replies screamed in my head. My personal space had been violated long ago.
This apartment was my property, and I was still paying the mortgage on it. I had let them move in after Phillip was laid off because I thought it would be temporary.
I thought it would be a year at most until they got back on their feet. Three years had passed.