Just the screen.
Sunday afternoon, I moved every box onto the covered front porch.
Forty-three boxes.
Two suitcases.
Three garment bags.
One framed photograph of Melissa and her mother.
Then I placed a small wrapped package on top.
Inside was a card.
You wanted freedom.
I finally realized I needed some too.
At 2:17, Melissa's car turned onto the street.
CHAPTER 3: THE PORCH
She parked crookedly.
That told me she had not expected the boxes.
Melissa got out.
Closed the door.
Then stopped.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
I watched from inside.
She walked toward the porch.
Read the labels.
BEDROOM.
PERSONAL.
BOOKS.
SHOES.
Her movements became slower.
Then she found the package.
She opened it.
Read the card.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
She knocked.
“Daniel?”
I remained in the living room.
The curtains were open.
No games.
No hiding.
On the coffee table sat a folder from Caroline.
Beside it, my wedding ring.
And across from me sat Evelyn Pierce.
Melissa's mother.
Melissa saw her through the window.
Her face changed instantly.
She knocked harder.
“Why is my mother here?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“You should let her in.”
“I know.”
I opened the door.
Melissa stared at me.
Then past me.
“What is this?”
“A conversation.”
“With my mother?”
Evelyn stood.
“With both of us.”
Melissa looked at me.
“You called her?”
“No,” Evelyn said.
“I called Daniel.”
Melissa froze.
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“Mom, I'm thirty-seven.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn's voice was tired.
“That is precisely why this conversation is embarrassing.”
Melissa's face hardened.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit.”
Melissa looked at me automatically.
The habit surprised all three of us.
For years, when she argued with her mother, I had been the mediator.
The translator.
The soft landing.
Not today.
Melissa sat.
Evelyn had called me two days earlier.
Melissa apparently told her family we were “taking space because Daniel had become controlling.”
According to Melissa, I had given her an ultimatum for going out with friends.
So I told Evelyn the truth.
Not everything.
Enough.
Now Evelyn looked at her daughter.
“You told me Evan was a friend.”
“He is.”
“Did you spend the night with him?”
Melissa crossed her arms.
“That's between Daniel and me.”
I finally spoke.
“Did you?”
She looked at me.
“I'm not answering that in front of my mother.”
“Then don't.”
I nodded.
“Our marriage is still over.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You don't get to interrogate me.”
“I'm not.”
“Then what is this?”
“Information.”
I pointed toward the folder.
“I filed for divorce.”
Melissa stared.
Then laughed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
Her face lost color.
“You filed while I was gone?”
“You left while we were married.”
Silence.
She looked at my hand.
No ring.
Then the coffee table.