I thanked them for their excellent work and told them we could manage the rest ourselves. My voice sounded as calm as if I were emceeing a school banquet.
“Folks, I think it’s best if we call it a day,” I announced. “Thank you all for coming.” Guests began to file out quickly, whispering, avoiding eye contact, clutching purses and paper plates.
Some squeezed my hand in sympathy. Some couldn’t bring themselves to look at me at all. But everyone left fast.
Only Mike stayed behind with me in the rapidly emptying hall. He sat down heavily in a chair and put his hand on my shoulder like he thought I might collapse.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “why didn’t you tell me?” “Because this was mine to handle,” I answered. “Some things a grown woman has to finish for herself.”
He hesitated, then asked the obvious question. “Did you give him something?” “A little,” I said honestly. “Nothing dangerous. Just enough to make the timing memorable.”
Mike let out a breath and gave a short disbelieving laugh. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said. “You’re a good man,” I told him, touching his cheek. “You’re not your father.”
The hallway door creaked open again. Out came Ken, pale, shaking, and reduced to something pitiful. There was a stain on his light dress pants that no detergent on earth was going to fix.
He stopped several feet away, unable to meet my eyes. “Eleanor,” he said hoarsely, “we need to talk. Privately.”
“You’ve gone too far,” he added weakly. “I know I’m at fault, but this—this was cruel.” “Cruel,” I repeated. “That’s an interesting word.”
“Cruel is keeping a second set of keys to another woman’s house in your glove compartment.” He drew in a breath as if to argue, but his voice failed him.
Mike stood up and moved between us. “I’m calling you a cab,” he said to his father in a tone so cold I barely recognized it. “You’re not riding home with Mom.”
Ken nodded like a scolded boy. After a moment, he asked in a small voice, “Where am I supposed to go?”
“Ask Elizabeth,” I said. “She has a very large house. Or try the hotel. You seem to know your way around both.”
At that, his shoulders sagged. Mike was already giving the address to a dispatcher. I looked at the man I had lived beside for nearly half a century and felt a strange mix of pity and fresh air.
Freedom smells like a draft through an open window. “By tomorrow evening, you need to be out of my house,” I said clearly. “Take your documents, leave your keys on the table, and we’re done.”
“Eleanor,” he said, finally lifting his head. There was something almost childlike in his eyes. “Could I at least…” He glanced helplessly toward the restroom.
“Go ahead,” I said coolly. “And don’t forget your blood pressure pills. They’re in the bathroom cabinet. Orange bottle. Same as always.”
He shut his eyes for one second, whether from shame or from the realization that I still remembered his medication schedule better than he did, I can’t say.
Outside, a cab honked. Mike held out Ken’s jacket with two fingers. “I’ll walk you to the car,” he said.
Ken took it with trembling hands. Before he turned away, he looked at me one last time. “Ellie,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not really my department anymore,” I said. “Maybe look for forgiveness wherever those one-way tickets to Cyprus were taking you.”…
