I pick up the phone and dial Kate’s number again. After a few rings it goes straight to voice mail. ‘Kate, it’s me,’ I say. ‘Listen, I’m going to pack some things and come stay for a while. It won’t be permanent, just until the place sells. Call me on my cell phone when you get this.’ I hang up. I take a deep breathe. I will leave a note for Rita. It won’t say much. It won’t say I’m sorry. It won’t judge or blame. It will only say a few short and practical things about housekeeping.
I pick up the pile of school papers and find a box for them. I go to the answering machine and delete the recording of my voice—the recording that says I’m not home but please leave a message. I will leave a clean slate for Rita.