Chapter 2 - I Had Asked Her for One Favor
Avalon called it an agreement.
I called it a conversation I'd nearly forgotten.
Eighteen months earlier, I had fallen in the parking lot outside my pharmacy.
Nothing dramatic.
Bruised hip.
Sprained wrist.
Enough that Randall panicked when he found out.
My son had always had two settings with me.
Distracted.
And terrified something would happen when he wasn't looking.
The morning after the fall he called from Chicago.
“I'm moving you somewhere better.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I said no.”
“You're sixty-three.”
“Not ninety-three.”
“Your stairs—”
“One flight.”
“Your neighborhood—”
“Has existed without your supervision for decades.”
We fought.
He offered money.
I refused it.
He offered a larger apartment.
I refused that too.
Then Avalon called privately.
“Agatha, he's scared.”
“I know.”
“He thinks refusing help means you don't need it.”
“I don't want his money.”
“Why?”
Because I had spent my whole life avoiding dependence.
Because my husband left debts when he died.
Because I had worked until sixty-two.
Because every time Randall offered to solve my problems, I heard the little boy who once watched the electric company shut off our power and swore he'd grow up rich enough that it never happened again.
I told Avalon:
“If he insists on sending something, save it.”
“For what?”
“Future care.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“I should tell him?”
“No.”
That word eventually mattered more than anything else.
No.
“Let him think I'm fine.”
Avalon hesitated.
“Agatha—”
“He'll start managing everything.”
She understood.
Maybe too well.
So when Randall began sending money, Avalon opened a separate account.
The first transfer:
$10,000.
Then another.
Not monthly.
Every other month.
Twelve transfers over nearly two years.
$120,000.
I had agreed to the first one being saved.
I did not know there would be twelve.
Randall never told me.
Avalon never told me.
And I never asked.
Three people.
One family.
May you like
Three different assumptions.
That was how the wall started.
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