Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel

7


Late Wednesday afternoon, a small moving truck pulls up to the curb. Promove. Sounds like someone David might hire. Two men who look as though they must be father and son get out of the truck, talk to each other before they start for the door. I wonder what they’re saying. Remember—this is a divorce situation, here. We’ll have to be careful. Don’t say anything to the Mrs.—she might start bawling.

I open the door, stand waiting on the porch. “Hi!” I say. Oh, God.

“Mrs. Morrow?” the older man says.

“Yes!”

“We’re here to pick up a few of Mr. Morrow’s things?”

“Yes!” I step out of the way to let them in. “The study is the last room on the right, upstairs. The master is to the left—you’ll find all his clothes at one end of the closet.”

“This won’t take too long,” the man says, and something in the kind tone of his voice reaches my knees. I go into the kitchen, where I will find something to do. I can’t watch them. We’d gotten ham and cheese subs for lunch. While we sat on the empty living-room floor and watched the moving men carry his desk upstairs, David put his Coke bottle up to mine for a toast. “I love this house,” he said. “We’re never moving.”

I organize pots and pans, wipe out cupboards, line up spice bottles. When I hear the man call out, “All set!” I come into the living room.

“All set,” he says, again, quietly. Beside him, his son frankly stares at me, three fingers on his hip, football-player style.

“So, if you could just sign here.”

“Oh, sure.” I take the man’s ballpoint pen—it’s greasy—and start to sign my name. And then I drop the pen onto the clipboard and put my hands to my face.

“Oh, boy,” the man says. And then, “I’m awful sorry, Miss.”

I stop crying, pick up the pen, sign my name. Say thank you. Watch them drive away. Go upstairs and regard the empty room. David, we can’t do it in here! Shhhhh! Take off your clothes, we’ll be so quiet we won’t hear us.

I sit in the middle of the floor and rock like an autistic. There is comfort in it. In the corner, I see a paper clip, and I pick it up and hold it. Then I put it in my pocket. And then I go to the bedroom, look in the closet. Yup. They got it all.

I sit on the edge of the bed, stare at the wall. Then I take the paper clip out of my pocket and put it in the top drawer of the nightstand.

Now. Now I’ll call Karen Wheeler to tell her it’s safe for Travis to come home, and that he can bring Ben, too, if he wants. And I know what Karen will say. She’ll say Oh, well, why doesn’t Travis just stay here for a while? Because she won’t want Ben here. Because what if it’s contagious?

Ben answers the phone when I call. “Hey, Ben,” I say. “It’s Travis’s mom. I just wanted to tell you that Travis can come home anytime. And you can come, too, if you want. Stay for dinner?”

“Oh, okay. Hold on a second.” He puts the phone down and I hear him say, “Hey, T. Want to go over to your house? Your mom says it’s okay.”

Silence. And then Ben comes back to the phone. “He says we’ll just stay here. Okay?”

“… Sure. Can I speak to him, though?”

Another moment, and then Ben comes back to the phone again. “Mrs. Morrow?”

“Yes?”

“He’s doing something now. He’ll says he’ll see you later.”

“Oh. All right. Thank you, Ben.”

“It’s just … We’re playing this computer game. He’s at the hard part.”

He’s a sweet kid, Ben. He forgives me.

When Travis comes home, he asks if the study is completely empty. “Yes,” I say. “Would you like to see it?”

“Why would I want to see an empty room?”

But after we’ve gone to bed, I hear his door open and I know exactly where he’s going. And I know he needs to be alone, going there. My body lies in bed while my mind stands beside him, apologizing, apologizing, apologizing.