Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“I should get those things for you,” I said, standing abruptly. The conversation was suddenly more than I could handle. I was torn between asking her to sit across from me all night and recount stories of Mam and asking her to leave and never come back.
I’d placed the photo albums and selection of other belongings in a carrier bag. It sat at the foot of the bed our parents had shared. Grabbing it, I swiftly returned to the living room and found Ada slowly rising from the couch. She used her cane to take the weight off her injured leg, and I didn’t like seeing her struggle. When she saw the bag, she reached out to take it, but I held it back.
“It’s heavy,” I told her gruffly. “I’ll carry it out for you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I said I’ll carry it,” I stated, my tone a little harsh, and her protest fell away.
Stepping ahead of her, I opened the front door and motioned for her to exit. She walked towards her car; her steps measured like she was afraid to overdo it. Then, when she was just a few feet away, she withdrew her keys and clicked the button to open the doors before turning back to me. Once again, she reached for the bag, but I moved past her towards the vehicle.
“I’ll put it in the back for you,” I said, approaching the small car.
“Wait, Jonathan!” Ada protested, something desperate in her voice, but I’d already opened the back door. When I saw how much stuff was in there, bags of clothing and possessions, not to mention a pillow and sleeping bag, a sick feeling gripped me.
“I haven’t had the chance to bring everything to my new place yet,” she said, but her explanation felt hollow. I didn’t even realise I was biting the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood.
Immediately, I turned back around, meeting her panicked gaze. She looked so humiliated, and that was what killed me. If I didn’t already hate myself, this was the final straw. She was sleeping in her car. It was probably why her leg injury was playing up. Christ, even a fit and healthy person would feel like shit sleeping in that tiny vehicle. How did she even have enough room to lie down?
“Jonathan, please give me the bag,” she said, but I held on tight, my jaw working when I said, “Ada, get back in the house.”
She blinked, seemingly in confusion. Then her expression turned steely. “Can you please just hand over the bag so I can leave?”
“Leave and go where?” I challenged.
“To my … to my—”
“You’re sleeping here tonight,” I cut her off. “Now go inside. I’ll bring your stuff.”
She stared at me, looking lost, and I thought for sure she was going to turn and walk back into the house. Instead, she stepped away from me and went to her car.
“Ada, come back.”
“You can withhold my father’s belongings if you want, but I’m leaving.”
Before I had the chance to stop her, she was sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. I ran after her, trying the door, but she’d already locked it. Our eyes met, and I saw her refusal to accept my charity plain as day. For whatever reason, she was too proud, and I felt useless. A second later, she sped away from the house so fast I was surprised the tires didn’t squeal.
Frustrated at her departure, I went back inside and pulled out my phone. I found Ada’s number; the same one I’d gotten from Therese yesterday after finding her father’s belongings. I was about to hit “call” when I realised I had no idea what to say.
I couldn’t exactly open with “I know you’re sleeping in your car, and for some reason, that makes me feel like breaking things. Please come back and stay at my mother’s house. Stay forever if you want.”
Clearly, I was losing my sanity. My sister, Maggie, had lightly suggested I see a grief counsellor, and I was beginning to think she was right. I was emotionally attaching myself to Conor Rose’s daughter because, in my mind, she was my final connection to Mam. She was the one who could talk to me about her, tell me all the stuff I’d missed. I was still reeling from the kitten story.
At the same time, I simply couldn’t relax knowing I’d forced her into homelessness. Yes, I’d offered her cheaper rent, but maybe seven hundred a month was still too much. I’d been wealthy for so long I didn’t really know what was manageable to someone on an average salary. But perhaps it wasn’t merely the cost. I had experience with naturally prideful, stubborn people after two decades in the finance industry. I also happened to be one of those people from time to time. Give me an ultimatum, and I’d cut off my nose to spite my face. Was that what Ada was doing by sleeping in her car? She hadn’t found a new place to rent. No, she’d said that because she’d rather suffer than accept charity from a man who’d looked down on her from the moment we’d met.