Chapter 6 - The Ultimatum
By the beginning of December, the countdown clock on the craftsman house was ticking down fast.
Paige officially packed her suitcases, loaded them into a friend’s hatchback, and moved into her new shared apartment in Capitol Hill. Before she left, she came to my office at the college, handed me her copy of the front door key, and gave me a long, quiet hug.
“Thank you for giving me a place to crash for a year, Tessa,” Paige murmured. “I was lazy, and I took advantage of you too. I’m going to do better.”
“I know you will, Paige,” I said honestly, touching her shoulder. “Good luck with your classes.”
With Paige gone and Gordon actively working with a social worker to secure a spot at a quiet, dignified senior living community in Arvada starting December 10th, Marianne was left completely isolated.
Her grand network of country club friends didn't step up to house her. Her relatives offered only hollow prayers over Facebook. The reality of her situation finally hit her like a ton of bricks: in less than two weeks, she would be homeless.
Desperate, Marianne turned her entire manipulative focus onto Derek.
She called him fifteen times a day. She claimed her heart was fluttering. She claimed she couldn't breathe. She wept into the phone, begging him to take out a high-interest personal loan to rent a two-bedroom luxury apartment in Downtown Denver where she could live with him while he 'figured things out with Tessa.'
Derek was drowning.
He was staying in a cramped extended-stay hotel near his office, eating takeout every night, trying to manage his demanding sales accounts while his mother drained every ounce of his remaining sanity.
On the evening of December 8th—one week before the eviction deadline—Derek called me. His voice sounded entirely different from the arrogant, defensive man who had shouted at me in the conference room three weeks earlier. He sounded broken.
“Tess?” he whispered into the phone. “Can I please see you? Just for an hour. Anywhere you want.”
I hesitated, looking at the mountain of paperwork on my desk. “You can come to the hotel lobby at the Brown Palace, Derek. 7:30 p.m.”
At 7:30 sharp, Derek walked into the grand lounge of the hotel. He had lost weight. His suit hung loosely on his shoulders, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hands were constantly fidgeting. He looked like a man who had been running a marathon in wooden shoes.
He sat down across from me at a small corner table. I ordered him a hot tea.
“My dad is moving to Arvada on Tuesday,” Derek said quietly, staring into the steam rising from his mug. “He signed the lease on a studio unit at the senior center. He told my mom he isn't living with her anymore.”
I remained silent, letting him speak.
“My mom...” Derek choked back a dry sob, covering his face with both hands. “My mom tried to get me to sign a lease on an apartment with her yesterday. She wanted me to pay three thousand dollars a month for a place in Cherry Creek. She told me I owed it to her because she raised me.”
“And what did you tell her?” I asked gently.
Derek lowered his hands. Tears were tracking down his pale cheeks. “I looked at her, Tess... and for the first time in my entire life, I actually saw her. I saw how she talked to the leasing agent. I saw how she demanded a corner unit with a balcony while I was trying to figure out if I could afford my credit card minimums. She didn't care about my marriage. She didn't care about my financial survival. She just wanted someone to pay for her life.”
I leaned back in my chair, feeling a quiet, heavy swell of emotion in my chest. “It took an empty kitchen and a legal eviction notice for you to see that, Derek.”
“I know,” he wept, reaching across the table to grab my hand. His fingers were trembling violently. “I know I failed you, Tess. I was a coward. I was so terrified of making her angry, so terrified of being the bad son, that I let her destroy the best thing that ever happened to me. I let her insult you in your own house. I let her throw your hard work into the trash.”
He squeezed my hand tightly, looking into my eyes with absolute, raw desperation.
“I don't care about her apartment,” Derek sobbed. “I don't care about her pride. I paid three thousand dollars yesterday to put her belongings into a climate-controlled storage unit, and I booked her a six-week stay at an extended-stay residential hotel in Aurora using her own small savings account. She moves out of your house on Sunday.”
I looked at my husband—the man I had married three years ago, stripped of his mother’s shadow for the very first time.
“And what about you, Derek?” I asked softly. “Where are you sleeping on Sunday night?”
Derek looked down at the marble tabletop, his shoulders shaking. “I don't know, Tess. I hope... I pray... that after everything is cleaned out, after the dust settles... you might let me come home. Not as the son who defended his mother. But as the man who earned his wife back.”
May you like
I didn't answer right away. I looked out the window at the snow falling gently over the city streets.
“The locks are being changed on Monday morning at 8:00 a.m., Derek,” I said quietly. “If you want a key to that new lock... you will be standing on that porch on Sunday afternoon when the moving truck drives away. And you will be holding a broom.”
