The memory shifted. 6 months after they’d moved in, I was setting the same table when Michael had walked through. Waldo, you really should update this place. The carpets, the furniture, it’s all very dated. I like it this way. It’s comfortable. He’d laughed, that patronizing sound I’d hear a thousand more times. comfortable for you, maybe, but we have friends coming over. I folded the napkins now, creasing them into triangles.
Another memory surfaced. The check I’d written, $45,000 to save them from creditors. I still had the canceled check in my filing cabinet, dated February 2022. Amanda had cried with relief. You’re saving our lives, Waldo. Michael had clasped both my hands. We’ll pay you back for everything. The months had passed like water through a sieve. Month 12, I’d been watching the evening news when Michael took the remote from my hand. I was watching that game, old man. Month 18, I’d overheard Amanda on her phone in the hallway. Yeah, we’re stuck living with my dad. It’s suffocating.
Recent weeks had brought new indignities. Being told to keep it down past 9, having my mail opened and sorted, being asked to give them space in my own living room.
The doorbell rang at 3:00. I heard Michael’s voice booming in the entryway, playing host. Jason, Melissa, come in. Come in. I stayed in the kitchen, basting the turkey one final time. Through the doorway, I watched them arrive. Jason, loud and confident, worked in tech. Melissa, his wife, had that look of someone perpetually judging her surroundings. David came next, Michael’s former business associate, then four others whose names I’d learn later. Thanks for having us, Mike. Jason’s handshake was enthusiastic. I stepped into the dining room, extending my hand. Welcome to my house…” Michael’s arm wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, steering him away. Let me show you where the drinks are. Amanda made her famous eggnog. His eyes flicked toward me, dismissive. That’s just Amanda’s dad. He’s staying with us for the holidays. Staying with us? The words echoed. The inversion was complete. I retreated to the kitchen. Through the doorway, I watched Michael pour my wine into my glass, gesturing expansively about our plans for renovating the dining room. Amanda floated past, playing hostess, avoiding my eyes entirely.
