This was a terrible idea.
A heavy sigh slips from my lips as I adjust my grip on Grace’s hand and Claire squirms in my arms. Together, the three of us stomp up the narrow stairs of the townhouse we’re touring with my real estate agent, Marsha.
The moment we spoke on the phone, I knew she’d be a good fit. Marsha looks like someone’s sweet grandmother and has the patience of Job, which is coming in handy this afternoon since my daughters are behaving like grumpy little hellions.
“Up here, we have a second living area, which could function as a playroom, and two bedrooms with a shared Jack andJill bath. You also have a pleasant view of the community pool from the second-story windows,” Marsha says, a cheerful smile on her lined face.
"I don't like it, Mom." Grace tries to pull her hand from mine, declaring with confidence, “It isn't spacious enough. Plus, it's probably not safe to have the pool that close to us." She shoots her younger sister a look, adding, "Claire isn't a very good swimmer."
"That's not true, sissy!" Claire protests, thrashing in my arms.
The townhouse clearly belongs to someone with a deep love for Waterford crystal because it’s everywhere. Candlesticks on the dining table, vases on end tables, even an arrangement of plates hanging on the wall. There’s no way I can let my rambunctious girls loose in here without risking a minor catastrophe, especially not when Grace is intent on annoying her little sister. I tighten my grip on Claire's flailing body, already imagining the hefty price tag on each delicate piece of crystal.
Giving up the fight, Claire slumps against me, whining, “I don't like it either! Where will Willow live? The backyard is too small for her."
Her breath is hot against my neck. I’m already sweaty and frustrated, and the excess warmth from her small body is making me even more irritable.
“I think Willow would love living here, Claire Bear. If she’s with you, Willow will be happy anywhere,” I reply, my tone jovial despite my plummeting mood. “Besides, terrestrial turtles only need an enclosure that’s four times the turtle’s length and twice its width, so the backyard is plenty big for Willow.”
Especially since Willow is Claire'simaginarypet turtle.
While I’d hoped the girls would be excited about looking at a new home, it turns out I was way too optimistic. Their play therapist suggested involving them in the house-hunting process to help ease the transition. But based on their behavior this afternoon, it’s clear they’re going to need more time to come to terms with selling our house and moving into something much smaller and less luxurious.
Unfortunately, time isn’t on my side. The mortgage, upkeep, and taxes on our big Brentwood home are more than I can handle on my own for much longer. The bottom line is that we need to move—the sooner, the better.
This townhouse had been my favorite when I walked through it by myself a few days ago, but now, sullied by the girls’ negative attitudes, I find faults where before I saw none. The kitchen is cramped and separated from the downstairs living area. The primary bedroom is enormous, but the upstairs bedrooms are quite small. And I don’t like that the backyard area isn’t fenced, so we wouldn’t have any privacy from our neighbors.
After we meander back downstairs, I say, “I’m sorry, Marsha, but I don’t think this is the right one for us after all.”
She aims a kind smile in my direction and shakes her head. “No need to apologize, dear,” she murmurs, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t y’all head out? Call me later if you change your mind. If not, I’ll email you when something new pops up.”
“Thank you.”
“Anna, have you given any more thought to listing your house yet?”
Touring houses has felt a lot like adding things to my online cart. I can do it without much intention. But once my house is on the market, it all becomes real. There’s no turning back.
But before I can get pre-approved for a new mortgage, I’ll need collateral. My savings account is minuscule, so selling my current house is the only way I’ll have enough for a down payment on a new place.
In for a penny, in for a pound… right?
“Yes,let’s do it, Marsha.”
My previous conversation with Laura has been percolating in my mind since we had it almost two weeks ago. She’s right. I need to prioritize a social life of my own. One day, the girls will grow up and leave me to start their own lives. When that day comes, I want to be ready and excited about that next stage of life, not left feeling like I'm aimlessly adrift and alone.
Today, during our coffee chat, I tell my best friend as much. “I think I’m ready, or at least as ready as I can be.” I nod, gathering courage. “I’d like to go on a date.”
My biggest hesitation has been my daughters. If they’re reluctant to move, I can only imagine how they’ll react when they learn I’m dating. But as my therapist reminded me, I’m the parent. While Grace and Claire's feelings matter, they don’t get to dictate my life choices. She also told me that no growth occurs when you stay within your comfort zone. I’m not sure if she meant my comfort zone or the girls’, but either way, her words struck a chord.
Laura’s mouth gapes before she claps. “Yes! I knew this day would come. Want me to make you a Tinder profile?” She tilts her head. “Maybe Bumble would be better for you since you’re a dating app newbie.”
I raise a hand. “Stop. No apps. I want to meet someone the old-fashioned way.”
“Okay, Dave it is, then.”
My eyes widen. Dave is a morning show deejay for the country radio station that shares our building. While Laura swears he has a crush onme, I don’t think he does. I’m confident that he’s just a guy who’s friendly and more than a little awkward.
“No way. He doesn’t like me, Laura, and even if he did, I could never go out with him since we work together.” I shake my head.
