Chapter 13 - ERIC’S BLANK LINE
Eric took longer.
He visited Mom.
Called.
Sent flowers.
Always pleasant.
Never committed.
Whenever schedules came up, something interfered.
Work.
Tyler.
Traffic.
Money.
One Sunday, Mom finally stopped accepting the excuses.
We were eating lunch in her apartment.
Daniel had brought dessert.
I was clearing dishes.
Eric mentioned needing to leave early.
Mom said:
“Before you go, I want an answer.”
He froze.
“To what?”
She took a legal pad from the drawer.
The sight of it almost made me laugh.
Mom put it in front of him.
“What can I count on you for?”
Eric’s face reddened.
“Mom.”
“I’m not asking for equal.”
“I call.”
“Yes.”
“I visit.”
“Sometimes.”
He looked at Daniel.
“Don’t start.”
Daniel raised both hands.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Mom pushed the pad closer.
“Write what I can count on.”
Eric stared at the blank page.
A full minute passed.
Then he whispered:
“I don’t know.”
Mom nodded.
Not angry.
Just sad.
“That’s an answer.”
She pulled the pad back.
Eric looked wounded.
“You think I don’t love you?”
“No.”
Mom folded her hands.
“I think you love me very much.”
“Then—”
“But love you cannot depend on is different from help.”
Silence.
Those words finally separated two things our family had confused for generations.
Love.
Labor.
You could have one without the other.
May you like
Naming that did not erase love.
It simply stopped using love as counterfeit payment.
