Stephanie came to Danny's apartment on Tuesday afternoon.
She had called first and asked whether I would be free.
I told her I would.
When she arrived, she carried a paper bag in each hand.
"I brought a few things," she said.
I looked inside.
There were apples, bread, soup, and a small container of the tea I liked.
"You didn't need to bring all this."
"I know," she replied. "I wanted to."
She placed the bags on the counter and took off her coat.
Danny greeted her from the living room.
They exchanged a hug.
Then Stephanie looked around the apartment.
"Where are the boys?"
"At school," Danny answered.
"And Kayla?"
"She's running an errand."
Stephanie nodded.
Then she turned toward me.
"Would you like to take a walk with me?"
I agreed.
I put on my coat, and we stepped outside together.
The afternoon was cool.
A light breeze moved along the street, lifting a few dry leaves near the curb.
We walked slowly.
Stephanie asked how I was feeling and whether I had been sleeping well.
I answered honestly.
Then she asked about my plans.
I told her I was taking things one day at a time.
She nodded.
"I've been thinking about what you said when I called."
"Which part?"
"That you weren't ready to move."
I looked at her.
She continued.
"I was disappointed at first, and then I realized I was making it about me again."
I said nothing.
"I wanted to feel that I had fixed something," she explained. "I wanted you to accept my offer so I could stop feeling guilty."
Her honesty surprised me.
I had expected an explanation about the guest room or her household routine.
Instead, she was talking about her own feelings without asking me to manage them.
I slipped my hands into my coat pockets.
"Thank you for telling me that."
She looked down at the pavement.
"I didn't understand how much my answer hurt you when you first asked me."
I turned toward her.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Please."
"When I called you after your father died, I wasn't asking for a perfect arrangement."
She listened carefully.
"I knew you had your own life. I knew you had responsibilities. I wasn't expecting you to make everything easy."
I paused.
"I was frightened, Stephanie. I had just lost your father, and I didn't know where I was going to live."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I know that now."
"I don't think you did then."
She shook her head.
"No. I didn't."
We continued walking.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she reached for my hand.
"I wish I could go back and answer differently."
"So do I."
She looked at me.
I squeezed her hand.
"But we can't go back."
She nodded.
"I know."
"We can only decide what we do now."
She took a deep breath.
"Then I want to do better."
I believed that she meant it.
I also knew that wanting to do better was only the first step.
"Start by asking me what I need," I told her. "And listen to the answer, even if it isn't the answer you expected."
She nodded.
"I can do that."
We walked another block before turning back.
When we reached the apartment, Danny had returned from a quick trip to the store.
He was putting away a carton of milk.
Stephanie offered to help him with the groceries.
Danny thanked her.
Then she asked whether she could take the boys to the park on Sunday.
Danny looked at her.
"You want to take both of them?"
"Yes."
He smiled.
"They'll be thrilled."
She glanced at me.
"I thought Danny and Kayla might like a little time to themselves."
"They would," Danny said. "Thank you."
Stephanie looked pleased, but she didn't wait for praise.
She asked Danny what time would work best and whether the boys had any plans.
They made arrangements.
I watched her carefully.
This was a small thing.
It was also a change from the way she had once assumed Danny would handle whatever needed handling.
Now she was offering to carry part of the responsibility.
I hoped she would keep doing it.
Before she left, Stephanie sat with me for a few minutes.
She asked about the letter Walt had written.
"Did Dad say anything to you before he died about me?"
I considered the question.
"He talked about all of you."
"What did he say?"
I looked toward the kitchen.
"He loved you. He worried about you. He hoped you would be kind to one another."
She lowered her eyes.
"Did he know I would make that mistake?"
"I don't know."
I wanted to be careful.
It would have been easy to make Walt sound as though he had predicted every painful thing that happened.
But he hadn't.
He had simply known that life could make people selfish if they stopped paying attention.
"He knew that all of us could get things wrong," I said. "Including me."
Stephanie looked surprised.
"You?"
"Of course."
I smiled.
"I have made mistakes too. I've sometimes stayed quiet when I should have spoken. I've expected people to understand what I needed without telling them. I've tried to protect everyone from uncomfortable feelings, even when that meant hiding my own."
She listened.
"I don't want us to turn your father's letter into a way of deciding who is good and who is bad."
Stephanie nodded slowly.
"I understand."
"The letter was meant to help us look at ourselves."
She glanced toward the table.
"And I think it has."
I hoped she was right.
After she left, I helped Danny put away the remaining groceries.
He handed me the tea Stephanie had brought.
"She remembered which kind you like."
"Yes," I said.
He smiled.
"That's something."
"It is."
I placed the tea in the cupboard.
I thought about how easy it would have been to treat Stephanie's visit as proof that everything had changed.
But I didn't need to decide that yet.
I could appreciate the groceries.
I could appreciate the walk.
I could appreciate the apology.
I could also wait to see what happened next.
That evening, Kayla asked me whether I wanted to help her prepare dinner.
I said yes.
We stood side by side in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and talking about the boys.
She told me about a school project they were working on.
I told her about a project Walt and I had helped the children with years ago.
We laughed about how seriously the boys took their assignments.
For a moment, I felt as though I had always belonged in that kitchen.
Then I remembered that belonging was not something I should take for granted.
It was something we kept making for one another.
When dinner was ready, Danny set the table.
Kayla placed the food in the middle.
I carried the bread Stephanie had brought.
The three of us sat down together.
Nothing about the meal was extraordinary.
But I looked at the people around me and felt grateful.
I was no longer waiting for my children to prove that they loved me.
I was learning to notice the ways they were trying.
And I was learning that I could encourage those efforts without pretending the past had not hurt.
That balance was new to me.
It was also beginning to feel possible.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: As My Children Began Showing Up in Small Ways, I Finally Opened My Heart to the Question I Had Avoided Since Walt’s Funeral
My Two Older Children Came to Thanksgiving Expecting an Inheritance, but Neither Had Asked Where Their Widowed Mother Would Sleep
Part 18 of 20
