“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Barbara—”
“No questions.”
She glanced sideways at me.
“You have a terrible poker face.”
“My what?”
“Your face. You’ll give everything away.”
I was too tired to argue.
Twenty minutes later, we turned onto Eric’s street.
Barbara parked a short distance from his house.
Then she opened the trunk.
It was completely full.
Boxes.
Clothes.
Photographs.
A guitar.
Childhood trophies.
College belongings.
Things Eric had apparently left at his mother’s home for years.
“What are we doing?”
Barbara handed me a box.
“Returning property.”
Together, we carried everything to Eric’s porch.
Barbara arranged the boxes neatly.
Then she placed a handwritten note on top.
YOU WANTED YOUR OWN LIFE. NOW YOU HAVE ALL OF IT.
I stared at her.
“This is the plan?”
She shut the trunk.
“This is the first part.”
“There are more parts?”
“Oh, yes.”
We parked nearby and waited.
Around twenty minutes later, Eric opened his front door.
He stopped dead.
“What the hell?”
Tessa appeared behind him in slippers.
Eric picked up the note.
His expression changed immediately.
“My mother.”
Tessa lifted one of his old trophies.
“Why is your childhood on our porch?”
“I don’t know.”
That was when Barbara stepped out of the car.
“Good morning.”
Eric turned.
“Mom?”
She approached calmly.
“You said you wanted your own life. I’m finished providing storage for it.”
