Greg’s hand tightened on mine.
“It counts,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry it took me four years and a lawyer to hear it.”
The counselor wrote something down. Then she looked up at both of us.
“That’s the real mortgage,” she said. “The one you two still owe each other. It doesn’t get paid off in one tap.”
I thought about that all the way home.
Diane didn’t call for three weeks.
Greg called her every other day. She didn’t pick up. He left voicemails. Mom, it’s me. Mom, the Linden Park lady called. Mom, Lily drew you a picture.
Owen asked me about it the week after.
He’s eleven. He notices everything and pretends he doesn’t. I was folding laundry on the couch, and he sat down on the other end with a basketball in his lap.
“Is Grandma mad at us?”
I put down the towel I was folding.
