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My Son Skipped Christmas—Then Panicked When I Closed the Accounts in My Name / Chapter 5 / 6

Chapter 5 — My Son Skipped Christmas—Then Panicked When I Closed the Accounts in My Name

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Together, they were no longer small.

“I didn’t realize,” he said.

“I know.”

There was no triumph in saying it.

That was part of the problem.

Neither of us had wanted to look closely.

He asked whether I expected all of it back immediately.

“No.”

He looked surprised.

“I expect you to stop acting as though my money is part of your monthly plan.

What happens with repayment can be discussed after I speak with the attorney and after you review these records yourself.”

His shoulders lowered.

For the first time since arriving, he picked up a statement.

He read one page, then another.

Occasionally he frowned or shook his head as if remembering the circumstances around a particular request.

He tried once to explain one of the entries.

I stopped him.

“I’m not asking you to defend every line today.”

“What are you asking?”

“To see the pattern.”

He looked back down.

A long time passed.

Eventually, he noticed the wrapped gifts under the tree in the adjoining room.

“You already bought all that?”

“Yes.”

“And you made the cookies.”

“Yes.”

His eyes moved to the tin on the counter.

“I told you earlier in the week we were coming.”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the statement.

“My wife’s parents changed their plans.

She wanted to go there.”

“You were allowed to choose that.”

“I should have called.”

“Yes.”

The simplicity of the answer seemed to land harder than anger would have.

He nodded once.

“I’m sorry.”

I had imagined those words many times during the previous year.

In my imagination, they always repaired everything.

In reality, they did not.

They were simply a beginning.

“Thank you,” I said.

He waited, perhaps expecting me to tell him it was fine.

I did not.

Because it had not been fine.

And accepting an apology did not require rewriting the past.

Before he left, I made copies of the pages for him.

He tucked them beneath his arm without looking at me.

At the door, he stopped beside the crooked wreath.

“So Christmas is just… canceled?”

I almost answered the old way.

Of course not.

Come whenever you want.

I’ll rearrange everything.