I woke up that morning thinking about breakfast.
That was all.
I had bread in the kitchen, coffee in the cupboard, and a few bills waiting on my desk.
There was nothing unusual about the day.
I followed my usual routine and tried not to think about Lauren.
I had begun to understand that waiting for trouble could become its own kind of trouble.
Every time a car passed the house, I listened.
Every time the phone rang, I wondered whether she would ask about the property again.
I was tired of living that way.
I wanted my home to feel like my home.
By late morning, I had finished my paperwork and put the office in order.
I checked the cabinet once, then closed it.
The documents were safe.
I didn't need to look at them again.
Around lunchtime, Lauren called.
She sounded cheerful enough.
She asked whether I had eaten and whether I was planning to go out.
I told her I intended to stay home.
She said she might stop by later.
I asked whether there was something she wanted to discuss.
"No. I just want to see you."
I believed her, or at least I wanted to.
I told her she could come over.
After the call, I prepared lunch and ate at the kitchen table.
I washed my plate and put it away.
Then I spent some time in the living room with a book.
The afternoon passed slowly.
When I heard a car outside, I looked through the window.
It was Lauren.
She parked, got out, and walked toward the house.
I opened the door before she knocked.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hello, Lauren."
She smiled and stepped inside.
She wasn't carrying a folder this time.
She wasn't holding a stack of papers.
She had only her handbag.
That small detail made me relax.
I had become so used to seeing documents in her hands that an ordinary visit seemed like a gift.
She asked how I had been feeling.
I told her I was fine.
She looked around the living room and asked whether I had been keeping busy.
I said I had enough to do.
She nodded.
For several minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
Then she asked whether I had considered going out for dinner with her sometime.
I looked at her in surprise.
She hadn't suggested that in a long time.
I told her I would think about it.
She said there was no pressure.
I almost laughed at that.
There had been plenty of pressure between us lately, even when neither of us raised a voice.
But I didn't say anything.
I wanted to enjoy the moment.
She sat down and told me about a few things that had happened during her week.
I listened.
I asked questions.
She seemed calmer than she had been during our previous visits.
For a little while, I could imagine that the worst of our disagreement had passed.
Then she asked whether I had been sleeping well.
I told her I had been sleeping better.
She said that was good.
She asked whether I had been spending much time in the office.
I felt my attention sharpen.
"Some."
"Working on the old records?"
I put my book on the table.
"Lauren, why do you keep asking about those records?"
She looked surprised.
"I'm just making conversation."
"Then let's talk about something else."
She stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she nodded.
"All right."
I felt guilty almost immediately.
I had wanted to believe she was making an effort to reconnect with me.
Instead, I had reacted as though every question were a trap.
But I had asked her to stop bringing up the paperwork before.
I couldn't keep pretending the history between us didn't exist.
We moved to the kitchen and made coffee.
She asked if I needed anything from the store.
I said no.
She asked whether I had been having trouble with the house.
I looked at her.
"What kind of trouble?"
She shrugged.
"Anything that needs fixing."
I told her the house was fine.
She nodded and took a sip of coffee.
I tried to let the conversation move forward.
After a while, she stood and said she wanted to wash her hands.
I pointed toward the hallway.
She walked away.
I remained at the table, looking at the two cups.
The kitchen was quiet except for the clock.
I remember thinking that I should call an old friend later in the week.
I had spent too much time worrying about my daughter.
I needed to remember that other people still existed in my life.
Then Lauren returned.
She picked up her handbag.
"I should go."
I stood.
"You've only just arrived."
"I have things to do."
I walked her to the front door.
She paused before stepping outside.
"Dad, I really do want what's best for you."
I was tired of that sentence.
I was tired of hearing concern used as a reason to avoid answering simple questions.
"I want what's best for me, too," I said.
She looked at me for a moment.
Then she left.
I closed the door and returned to the kitchen.
I felt disappointed.
Not because she had gone early.
Because I had allowed myself to hope that an ordinary visit meant we were finally getting somewhere.
I finished my coffee and washed the cups.
Then I went into the office.
I worked for another hour before deciding to stop for the day.
I checked the cabinet, put away a few papers, and turned off the desk lamp.
I didn't visit the forgotten room.
There was no reason to.
I had checked it the previous evening.
The black key was safe.
The property documents were safe.
Everything was where it belonged.
I wanted to leave the matter alone for a while.
That evening, I cooked dinner and ate by the window.
The sky darkened slowly.
I turned on the lights and read for a while before going to bed.
I had no reason to think Lauren would return that night.
She hadn't said she would.
I hadn't invited her.
I locked the doors as usual and went to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up feeling rested.
I made coffee and checked my phone.
There was a message from Lauren.
She asked whether I would be home that afternoon.
I replied that I expected to be.
She said she wanted to visit.
I asked if everything was all right.
She replied that she simply wanted to talk.
I read the message twice.
Then I put the phone down.
I could have told her not to come.
I could have asked her to explain what she wanted before she arrived.
Instead, I agreed to see her.
I was still her father.
I still hoped we could find our way back to a relationship that didn't revolve around the house.
I spent the morning doing ordinary things.
I paid a bill.
I put away the clean dishes.
I straightened the living room.
At some point, I found myself looking toward the hallway.
The forgotten room was out of sight.
The black key was secure.
I reminded myself that I had done what I could to protect my documents.
I couldn't spend every day anticipating the worst.
When the afternoon came, I heard a knock at the door.
I went to answer it.
Lauren stood outside.
She looked serious, but not angry.
I stepped aside and let her in.
She entered the house without speaking.
I closed the door behind her.
For a moment, we stood in the hallway, looking at each other.
Then she said she wanted us to settle things once and for all.
I felt my stomach tighten.
I knew exactly what she meant.
And I knew that whatever happened next, I would have to be careful not to confuse keeping the peace with giving up my rights.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: When Lauren Said She Wanted to Settle Everything, I Thought We Were About to Have Another Argument About the House
I Thought My Daughter Wanted the House Until I Realized She Needed Something I Had Never Agreed to Give Her
Part 9 of 20
