“We can look around,” Auden replied as he stopped and looked into the first room then kept going and disappeared in the second.

Pippa looked in the first room and walked in, out of sight.

I stood there, waiting, thinking this wasn’t going well but knowing it wouldn’t.

Patience.

Perseverance.

This was going to take time and I had to put in the time. Take my licks. Endure the cuts. Bleed inside. Give them what they needed to take it out on me because I deserved it.

Then I’d show them this was different. This time it was a promise I wouldn’t break. This time we really were going to rebuild our family.

And they’d come to me. They were my babies. We’d once been close. We’d once been affectionate.

We’d once been happy.

They’d come to me.

At that moment, they didn’t come to me.

Auden came out of his room mere seconds after he entered it and he called, “Pippa!”

Immediately she came out of hers.

They both moved along the hall, toward me then past me and right to the front door.

“Pip’s curfew is eleven o’clock on weekends,” Auden stated as they walked. “I’m dropping her off at her friend’s. Leave a key under the mat or something. She’ll be home then.”

I stared, my insides frozen, my throat burning from the chill.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

Auden opened the door and Pippa walked right through, never looking at me.

But my son looked at me.

Or through me.

Though, his words were directed at me.

“Goin’ out with the guys. My curfew is midnight. Pip’ll leave the key somewhere for me. Later.”

With that, he went through the door and closed it behind him.

I stood immobile, allowing the vicious feel of the fact my children had walked into their new home they would be sharing with me (not often, but they’d be doing it), dropped their bags and walked out. They didn’t greet me. They didn’t look around. They barely looked at me. My daughter didn’t even speak to me.

And then they were gone.

I stared at the door and whispered, “I deserved that. I deserved it. Take it. Bury it. Move on. Move on, Amelia.”

I didn’t know how I did it but I forced my body to move. I went to the kitchen counter and grabbed the keys I’d had made for them. I found some notepaper. I wrote their names on two sheets. Under that, on each sheet, I wrote, “Welcome home. These are yours to keep.”

I went to the front door and lifted the mat, put the papers down side by side, laid the keys on top and dropped the mat.

Then I closed the door, took in a deep breath and decided against dinner that night. I had the groceries to make one of the few dishes that was a favorite of both my children.

Maybe I’d get to make it the next night.

* * * * *