The Lease for the Room Over the Garage

Brooke

At 5:15 I texted Brooke: The kids are at my place, 214 Main, over the hardware store. They fell asleep. Come up whenever you’re ready. Stairs are on the side.

She came at 5:40. I heard her on the stairs, slow, like she didn’t want to get to the top.

I opened the door before she could knock. She had her work scrubs on and her hair up in a clip, and she looked like she hadn’t slept since Saturday.

“They’re on my bed,” I said. “Go on in.”

She went to the bedroom doorway. Emma and Owen were curled up together on the quilt, Owen’s sneakers still on, macaroni sun on the pillow between them.

Owen woke up when he heard her. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and said the thing he’d said to me, only louder, the way kids do when they’re half asleep.

“Mama, Grandma’s bed is at the other house now. Why is Grandma’s bed at the other house?”

Brooke stood there in the doorway with her purse on her shoulder.

And she started to cry. Not loud. She put her hand over her mouth and her shoulders shook, and she couldn’t get a word out.

Owen looked at me, scared. “Is Mama sad?”

“Mama’s just tired, buddy,” I said. “Come here. Let’s get your shoes tied.”

I tied his shoes. I got Emma’s jacket on her while she was still mostly asleep. Brooke stood in the doorway the whole time and cried without making a sound.

When the twins were bundled up on the couch with the last of the popcorn, I poured Brooke a glass of water and set it on the table.

“Sit down a minute, honey,” I said.

She sat. She held the glass with both hands.

“I didn’t think you’d leave,” she said finally. “I thought you’d be mad, and we’d fight about it, and then we’d work it out. I didn’t think you’d just sign it.”

“You asked me to sign it.”

“I know.” She wiped her face with the back of her wrist. “I know I did.”

Then she told me about her grandma Arlene.