Eric moved slowly, deliberately, as if every step was calculated to maintain control. He settled into one of the kitchen chairs with an air of practiced ease, but there was something about the way he did it—how he pulled the chair out with a grating scrape against the floor, the way he sat down heavily, leaning back and rolling his shoulders—that set my nerves on edge. He drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes didn’t quite meet mine, instead roving around the room with a barely concealed criticism, as if he were inspecting the life I’d built without him.
“Looks nice,” he finally complimented. “But where’s the oven?”
“It broke. I’m gonna replace it. Next week,” I quickly declared, not wanting to give him an inkling of wonder about how I was doing without him. His opinion of me shouldn’t have mattered. I knew this. Yet somehow it did.
“Oh. Good,” he said.
I leaned my bottom against the main counter and planted myhands beside me, making my elbows look like cricket legs. Eric made me uneasy, to say the least. I wasn’t afraid of him, not in the same way you’d want to keep your distance from a venomous snake. More like not wanting to get near a cat you don’t know. It won’t kill you, but it sure can scratch.
Elijah entered the kitchen, cautiously. “Can I…get a snack?”
“Yes,” I answered at the same time Eric said, “No.”
“Okaaay,” Elijah slurred, wondering which one of us to obey.
Eric, who had no idea of Elijah’s daily schedule, answered, “We’ll let you know when it’s time for a snack.”
Elijah turned and walked back down my hallway.
I crossed my arms. “I know you didn’t drive all this way for tea.”
“No. I didn’t. Can we talk?” My ex gestured toward a seat at the table.
There, in the slight downturn of his eyes, sat an ounce of regret that calmed me enough to join him.
He took another sip of tea, then started. “I’m here because Terri asked me to come.”
“Terri called you?”
“Apparently, someone called her. Some kind of senior citizens’ care organization called her, asking questions.”
“What?” A bolt of indignation shot through me. “What questions?”
“Questions about your welfare. They wanted to make sure you were…well.”
“And they sent you, my ex-husband, to check on my welfare?”
“Terrisent me.”
Weren’t there laws against this? Yes, I had listed my daughter as my next of kin—but this? Didn’t I have rights when it came tounproven allegations regarding my health? Who would I sue first for this humiliation?
“I’m perfectly fine,” I told him. “Sorry you wasted a trip.”
He raised an eyebrow. There was more he needed to say.
I waited, clenching my teeth.
“Terri asked me to bring Elijah home with me.”
I felt a sharp, nauseating twist deep in my gut, as if someone had just punched me there. I swallowed. “Eric, there is no reason for Elijah to leave. He’s just fine here.”
He glanced at the empty space where my oven used to be. “He might be too much for you to handle. And is he safe here?”
“Of course he’s safe,” I spat back. “The person who called Terri was overreacting to my request for help with replacing the oven.”
“I thought you were getting it fixed next week?”
“I am.”
