Read Online On the Divinity of Second Chances by Kaya McLaren - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaya McLaren
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her.
“Nothing,” she replies. Her eyes gloss over as she goes to that place in herself where I’ve never been able to reach her.
After an hour, Phil and Olive emerge from the office and enter the kitchen with Phil’s 24” × 36” tablet. I cringe. I hate that tablet. The tablet generally means one thing and one thing only: graphs. He never makes his case without graphs.
“Hey, Anna,” he says, “as you may know, Olive has been struggling with how to become a homeowner instead of continually throwing her money away on rent. Now that Matt’s left her apartment, she won’t break even every month and doesn’t stand a chance of accumulating a down payment.”
I look at him with dread. I suspect that he has become so focused on the bottom line, once again, that he has failed to truly examine the consequences of whatever decision he’s about to pitch.
He flips his tablet open to show a bar graph in alternating blue and red bars. “Here we have Olive’s income in blue, compared to her expenses in red. You can see that there wasn’t much of a buffer before, but this month, without Matt’s financial contribution to their household, her expenses exceeded her income. You can see she’s headed toward a financial crisis. Now look at this one.” He turns the page. “Here we have her income, minus some minimal expenses, in savings over the next six months. You can see that if she finds a home loan where five percent is required down, she could afford to get into a nice home in five to six months and have some money left over for unexpected expenses associated with purchasing a new home.”
Olive looks down at the floor, distracted, as if she’s still trying to think of other solutions.
Phil flips the page. “Now we all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch, so here is a list of jobs Olive is willing to commit to in payment for renting her old room.”
His choice of words rubs me the wrong way.
Olive nods and glances up distantly. I see my solitude slipping even more, but still, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my children, nothing I wouldn’t give them if they needed it. I just wish that Olive didn’t need it. Maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way. At least I still have Olive, which is more than I can say about my youngest.
“Olive, home is your soft place to fall. I don’t like the idea of you ‘renting’ your old room back. That’s not what home is to me. I prefer the idea of everyone contributing to the household.”
Olive gives me a little smile. In it, I see gratitude, but I can tell she’s still upset. “Good job on the graphs, Dad,” she says. Phil beams. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s still upset. I wonder if referring Olive to Phil was really the right thing to do.
“Okay, I’m going to start packing the things I won’t need this month.” Olive’s attempt to smile and sound excited about the plan doesn’t fool me.
“It’s going to work out, Olive,” Phil says as he walks her to the door. Olive bites her lip and slips out the door.
Phil on Communication
(May 31)
“Phil, maybe you didn’t notice, but Olive was still upset when she left. Why didn’t you just give her the money for the down payment? At this point in my life, I would like to not worry about everyone else. If Olive is here, I’m going to stew over her problems. That’s what mothers do. It’s like there’s always this psychic umbilical cord that connects mothers to children. We’re not happy if they’re not happy. If she’s not right in front of me, I can forget about her frustrations sometimes, but having her here will mean having her frustrations in my face all the time. Do you know how exhausting that will be for me? Lately, I feel the need for a lot of solitude to figure out this new era of my life,” Anna tries to explain.
“A) Cut that umbilical cord. The kids are grown-ups. Just because one resumes living here doesn’t mean you have to resume being a mother. B) What are you
“Nothing,” she replies. Her eyes gloss over as she goes to that place in herself where I’ve never been able to reach her.
After an hour, Phil and Olive emerge from the office and enter the kitchen with Phil’s 24” × 36” tablet. I cringe. I hate that tablet. The tablet generally means one thing and one thing only: graphs. He never makes his case without graphs.
“Hey, Anna,” he says, “as you may know, Olive has been struggling with how to become a homeowner instead of continually throwing her money away on rent. Now that Matt’s left her apartment, she won’t break even every month and doesn’t stand a chance of accumulating a down payment.”
I look at him with dread. I suspect that he has become so focused on the bottom line, once again, that he has failed to truly examine the consequences of whatever decision he’s about to pitch.
He flips his tablet open to show a bar graph in alternating blue and red bars. “Here we have Olive’s income in blue, compared to her expenses in red. You can see that there wasn’t much of a buffer before, but this month, without Matt’s financial contribution to their household, her expenses exceeded her income. You can see she’s headed toward a financial crisis. Now look at this one.” He turns the page. “Here we have her income, minus some minimal expenses, in savings over the next six months. You can see that if she finds a home loan where five percent is required down, she could afford to get into a nice home in five to six months and have some money left over for unexpected expenses associated with purchasing a new home.”
Olive looks down at the floor, distracted, as if she’s still trying to think of other solutions.
Phil flips the page. “Now we all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch, so here is a list of jobs Olive is willing to commit to in payment for renting her old room.”
His choice of words rubs me the wrong way.
Olive nods and glances up distantly. I see my solitude slipping even more, but still, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my children, nothing I wouldn’t give them if they needed it. I just wish that Olive didn’t need it. Maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way. At least I still have Olive, which is more than I can say about my youngest.
“Olive, home is your soft place to fall. I don’t like the idea of you ‘renting’ your old room back. That’s not what home is to me. I prefer the idea of everyone contributing to the household.”
Olive gives me a little smile. In it, I see gratitude, but I can tell she’s still upset. “Good job on the graphs, Dad,” she says. Phil beams. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s still upset. I wonder if referring Olive to Phil was really the right thing to do.
“Okay, I’m going to start packing the things I won’t need this month.” Olive’s attempt to smile and sound excited about the plan doesn’t fool me.
“It’s going to work out, Olive,” Phil says as he walks her to the door. Olive bites her lip and slips out the door.
Phil on Communication
(May 31)
“Phil, maybe you didn’t notice, but Olive was still upset when she left. Why didn’t you just give her the money for the down payment? At this point in my life, I would like to not worry about everyone else. If Olive is here, I’m going to stew over her problems. That’s what mothers do. It’s like there’s always this psychic umbilical cord that connects mothers to children. We’re not happy if they’re not happy. If she’s not right in front of me, I can forget about her frustrations sometimes, but having her here will mean having her frustrations in my face all the time. Do you know how exhausting that will be for me? Lately, I feel the need for a lot of solitude to figure out this new era of my life,” Anna tries to explain.
“A) Cut that umbilical cord. The kids are grown-ups. Just because one resumes living here doesn’t mean you have to resume being a mother. B) What are you
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