Chapter 4 - A Home With Conditions
By Saturday afternoon, the garage boxes had been separated into two groups.
One held ordinary household items Andre no longer wanted.
The other contained Simone's belongings.
Tasha helped Nia mark the second group with large handwritten labels.
FAMILY — KEEP.
Andre watched without interfering.
For a few hours, the house remained unusually quiet.
Then Monique made an announcement over lunch.
“We need to finish preparing for tomorrow.”
Andre looked confused.
“Preparing what?”
“Our housewarming dinner. Remember? I invited some friends from work.”
Nia stopped eating.
“Tomorrow?”
Monique glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“We were supposed to have Mom's remembrance dinner.”
Andre lowered his fork.
Every year before Simone died, the family had gathered for a Sunday meal whenever there was something important to remember or celebrate.
This weekend marked the first year without her.
Tasha had planned to bring Simone's favorite cornbread.
Nia had already bought the ingredients for the chicken dish her mother made on special occasions.
Andre had promised they would eat together.
Monique exhaled.
“I thought we could do that another weekend.”
Nia stared at her.
“Another weekend?”
“I'm not saying you can never remember your mother, Nia.”
“Then why can't we do it tomorrow?”
“Because we also need to start creating new memories.”
Tasha placed her glass on the table.
“Those things aren't mutually exclusive.”
Monique looked directly at her.
“With respect, Tasha, you don't live here.”
Tasha leaned back.
“No, I don't.”
“Then you don't know what it's like to come into a home where another woman is still treated as though she's the wife.”
Andre shifted uncomfortably.
“Monique—”
“I'm serious. I love you. I married you. But there are days when I feel like a visitor in my own home.”
For the first time, Nia heard something other than irritation in Monique's voice.
There was hurt there.
But Nia couldn't understand why that hurt needed to be solved by erasing her mother.
“You're Dad's wife,” Nia said. “Nobody is trying to take that away from you.”
Monique looked at her.
“Then why does everything I do become a fight about Simone?”
“Because you keep touching things that belong to her.”
The room went silent.
Andre pushed back his chair.
“That's enough.”
Nia looked at him.
“Dad, tell her we're still having Mom's dinner.”
Andre hesitated.
Monique watched him.
He looked from his daughter to his wife.
Then he made a decision that changed the atmosphere in the room.
“We can have the remembrance dinner at Tasha's house.”
Nia's expression emptied.
“What?”
“It might be better for everyone.”
“Better for who?”
Andre's voice grew firmer.
“Nia, I'm trying to find a compromise.”
“You're moving Mom out of her own home again.”
“That's not fair.”
“Neither is this!”
Monique stood.
“I won't be made to feel guilty for wanting a home with my husband.”
Tasha rose as well.
“Then this conversation needs to stop before somebody says something they can't take back.”
She turned to Nia.
“Do you want to come stay with me tonight?”
Nia nodded immediately.
Andre looked alarmed.
“Now, wait a minute. Nobody needs to leave.”
Nia stood.
“I do.”
She went upstairs to pack a small overnight bag.
Andre followed her.
He found her folding pajamas beside the portrait of Simone.
“Nia, don't do this.”
She continued packing.
“I'll be back for my school things tomorrow.”
“This is still your home.”
Nia finally looked at him.
“Then why do I feel like I have to ask permission to remember my mother here?”
Andre had no answer.
He watched her place Simone's photograph carefully inside a padded tote and tuck the recipe tin beside it.
“You're making this harder than it needs to be,” he said quietly.
Nia zipped her bag.
“No, Dad. I've been trying to make it easier for everybody else.”
Downstairs, Tasha was waiting.
Nia put on her sneakers and walked to the door.
Andre followed her into the entryway.
“Nia, please. I don't want to choose between my wife and my daughter.”
Nia stopped.
She turned to him with tears standing in her eyes.
“You already did.”
Then she left.
Andre stood in the doorway as Tasha's car disappeared down the street.
Behind him, the living room wall remained blank.
May you like
On the kitchen counter sat Monique's neatly written guest list.
And for the first time, Andre began to wonder whether the home he was trying so hard to rebuild had already lost the person who needed him most.
