“Of course you did,” I said, because what else could I say?
Standing there, or sitting there in my case, arguing about money wasn’t going to change anything.
The front door opened and Ashley appeared.
Her perfectly highlighted hair and Sunday best made me acutely aware of my own appearance.
Sweatpants, an old blouse, and the kind of desperate energy that follows people who’ve run out of options.
“Helen,” she said with a smile so fake it could have been purchased at the dollar store.
“What a surprise.”
“Hello, Ashley.”
Michael tells me you’re having some challenges with your living situation.
Challenges, as if being disabled and broke was just a minor inconvenience, like a leaky faucet or a noisy neighbor.
“I was hoping to stay here for a few days while I sort things out.”
Ashley’s smile never wavered, but something cold flickered in her eyes.
“Oh, honey, I wish we could help, but you know how it is with the children’s schedules.”
“Soccer practice.”
“Piano lessons.”
“Family obligations.”
Family obligations.
I wondered if she realized the irony.
“Besides,” she continued, “our guest room is being renovated.”
“Has been for months.”
“You know how contractors are.”
I looked up at their house, all those windows, all those rooms, and knew she was lying.
But calling her on it would only make things worse.
Michael shifted uncomfortably.
“Mom, maybe we could help you find a place.”
“There are some nice assisted living facilities.”
“Assisted living costs three thousand a month,” I said flatly.
“I get eight hundred from Social Security.”
“There are programs,” Ashley chimed in helpfully.
“Government assistance.”
“I’m sure someone in your situation qualifies for something.”
Someone in my situation.
A burden.
A problem to be solved by someone else’s programs and someone else’s money.
“What about home health care?” Michael suggested, clearly grasping for solutions that didn’t involve actually helping.
“Someone who could come in during the day.”
“That costs money, too.”
“Money I don’t have.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Three people standing in a driveway worth more than most people make in a year, and nobody could figure out how to help a disabled woman who’d raised one of them and helped financially support the others.
“Look,” Michael finally said, “let me talk to Ashley tonight.”
