I believed love could shield me from anything. That my spouse Theo would always catch me. When hubby urged me to quit my financial job to be a stay-at-home parent, he promised no worries. I agreed because I loved him. Hazel and Ivy, our twin girls, were everything.
Then he left.
The call arrived on a dreary afternoon. Theo rushed home from business, excited to meet us. The icy roads caused his automobile to go off the freeway. The officer stated it was painless and fast. I only heard my heart racing.
Days blurred. The funeral ended. To hear Theo, I clutched my daughters close and replayed his last voicemail. I thought losing him was the hardest pain.
Was wrong.
I stayed at the cemetery after the funeral to spend time with Theo before returning to reality. My mother-in-law Selene took the girls home. “We’ll talk when you’re back,” she said. “I’ll bathe and settle the twins.”
Selene was waiting in the living room with her back tight, hands clutched, and chilly, keen gaze when I got home. “This house is mine, Nova,” she continued. “I let you and Theo live here, but now I’m taking it back.”
My breath caught, like I was shoved. “What?”
She sighed, thinking I was wasting her time. “Theo never changed action. I offered when the twins were born, but he declined. Still mine. You can stay in the garage.”
I examined her face for a sign of unintentional kindness while grieving. But she stared hard. She wanted me to beg. I knew.
Hazel and Ivy, sleeping on the couch, watched me. Lost their dad. Can’t let them lose their home. So I nodded.
The garage reeked of grease and rust. My small mat and blanket let the chill into my bones at night. I cuddled in the car’s backseat for warmth when it became worse. It was fleeting, I assured myself. We had money from Theo, but legal things takes time. I had no employment, accounts, or anywhere to go until it was resolved. Shame prevented me from speaking up.
I merely came home to cook, do laundry, and kiss the girls goodnight. I wandered my home like a stranger. Only Selene glanced at me. Why would she? She won.
I sat with Hazel and Ivy in the living room one afternoon. Drawing on the coffee table with crayons scattered, their faces twisted. Drawing Daddy’s eyes blue! Hazel pressed her paper tightly. “Like ocean.”
Head tilted, Ivy. “Mine smiles. Her smile showed as she said, “Daddy always smiled.”
Swallowed hard. “He did,” I muttered.
Unspoken words weighed the air. The only sounds were crayons scraping and small feet moving on the rug.
Then Ivy spoke. “Mommy? You sleep in the garage—why?
My hands froze. When asked about the girls’ dreams, Hazel looked up with big, trusting eyes like Theo.
“Yeah,” Hazel said. Grandma sleeps in your bed. Why not?”
My chest twisted with pain. Tucking Ivy’s hair behind her ear, I smiled. “Sweethearts, adults make tough decisions. Though unpleasant, it serves a purpose.”
Ivy frowned, contemplating. “But you’re Daddy’s wife.”
Words hit hard. “I am,” I muttered.
“Why does Grandma get the big bed?” Hazel asks.
I opened my mouth but said nothing. Hallway creaked. I looked up to see Selene holding the doorframe, pallid. She was watching the girls, not me. First, she looked like she’d made a big mistake. She didn’t speak. She turned and left.
A knock on the garage door occurred one night. I opened it to find Selene. Not the same woman who expelled me. Gray hair stood prominent in her immaculate hair. Her lips were dry and face pallid. Her hands shook.
I frowned. Was she always thin? I cooked plenty for everyone daily. Had she fasted?
Cracked voice. “Nova, please.”
I waited silently.
“I made a terrible mistake,” she whispered. I’m sick.
Her lips quiver, and I saw terror in her eyes like never before.
I should have felt good seeing her so vulnerable. It was just fatigue. What you want? Flat-voiced, I asked.
“The doctors say it’s bad,” she continued. “I keep thinking…maybe this is my punishment.”
I crossed arms. “For what? Kicking your widowed daughter-in-law into a garage?
She recoiled. For everything, Nova. My treatment of you. For alienating people.”
Silence fell between us. She removed papers from her coat. “I transferred the house to you and the girls,” she continued. “You own it now. It should have been.”
“Why?” Asking, my stomach tightened.
“I have nobody else.”
I looked at the documents, proof I’d never beg again. When Selene’s face was weighted with regret, I viewed her as a woman who had faced her own brutality, not my opponent.
“Come inside,” I urged.
It caught her breath. “It’s cold out here,” she entered.
“I know,” I said. “You adjust.”
Selene, who had ignored me, cried for the first time.
A guest room didn’t feel like hers. She moved carefully, not to disturb anything. She sat stiffly on the bed, palms clasped, staring at my nightstand tea. She looked little in the lamp’s warm glow.
I spent my first night back at the house in Theo and my bedroom. It felt odd, but I was glad to leave the garage. Sitting across from Selene with my legs tucked, I held my mug. Heavy but not angry quiet.
The woman spoke first. “I have cancer,” she whispered. Stage 3.
Slow exhalation. Even though I suspected it was serious, the words hit hard. “I don’t know what’s next,” she stuttered as she touched her cup. “I’m scared, Nova.”
“I know,” I nodded. “You’re not alone. I am here. Girls are here for hugs and laughs.”
Voice breaking, she added, “I don’t deserve you.
“Probably not,” I answered, keeping her from spiraling. “But Hazel and Ivy love you. You’re family, like it or not.”
She shakily breathed as her throat bobbed. “Theo would want us to keep each other safe.”
“Yes,” I answered. “He would.”
Selene laughed softly, rubbing her cheeks. God, I’ll eat so much soup, right?
I snorted. Yes, yes. Soup, herbal tea—all the healthful stuff you skipped.”
She frowned. Why not wine’s medicine?
She laughed too, surprising me. Not ideal or simple, but I knew we’d be fine. We were family.
I took Selene to all her health visits after that. I wanted to work again, but this was more essential. We relied on Theo’s money till I could restart.
Doctors’ offices smelt sterile. Selene sat next me, knuckles white, hands tight. The kind-eyed Dr. Patel, in his fifties, flipped through her chart. “The biopsy confirms stage three,” he remarked gently. We must start chemo and radiation shortly. Treatment is possible but difficult.”
Selene nodded stiffly, bracing herself. I waited for her to speak but never did.
“Will she need surgery?” I requested.
“Eventually, yes,” Dr. Patel responded. “We shrink the tumor first. The road is long.”
Selene responded, “I know,” her voice low.
She seemed delicate, unlike the woman who sent me to the garage.
“Do you have family to support you?” the doctor inquired.
Selene paused. “She has us,” I stated confidently. “She’s not alone.”
I took her hand. Her fingers twitched like she wasn’t used to being held, but she didn’t pull away.
“That makes all the difference,” Dr. Patel smiled.
Selene was quiet the whole way home. Her breath shook as we entered the driveway. Thank you, Nova. Thanks for being good.”
“We’ll get through this,” I said.
She nodded like she believed me for the first time.