I laughed.
For a little while, I let myself believe we had returned to normal.
Then I went to the bedroom to get a photograph album because Ashley mentioned a childhood vacation.
When I came back into the dining room, there were papers on my kitchen table.
A neat stack.
White pages.
Black print.
Yellow tabs.
A pen beside them.
I stopped in the doorway.
Ashley sat with her hands folded.
My stomach dropped before I even read the first line.
“What is that?”
Her voice became calm.
Too calm.
“Just look at it.”
I walked toward the table.
My name was there.
Ellen Bennett.
The address of my condo.
Legal descriptions I did not fully understand.
And Ashley Bennett Mercer’s name printed beneath mine.
Transfer documents.
I looked at her.
“What did you bring into my home?”
“Mom, don’t start.”
“Where did you get these?”
“They’re standard.”
“I asked where you got them.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She leaned forward.
“This is exactly why I wanted to talk in person.
You get emotional before you even understand what I’m saying.”
I stared at her.
“You apologized to get into my apartment.”
“That is not what happened.”
“You told me you wanted peace.”
“I do want peace.”
“And you brought property transfer papers.”
“To make things easier.”
There was that phrase again.
Make things easier.
“For whom?”
“For us.”
“There is no us on the deed.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“Would you at least listen?”
“I have listened.”
“You haven’t.”
“You asked me to transfer the condo.”
I held up one finger.
“I said no.”
“You asked to be added to the title.”
A second finger.
“I said no.”
“You asked for a key.”
Third.
“I said no.”
“You asked again.”
Fourth.
“No.”
“You tried to get the key from the building manager.”
Fifth.
“No.”
“And now you have brought transfer papers into my house.”
I put my hand flat on top of the documents.
“This is the sixth time.”
She stood.
“Stop counting like I’m some kind of child.”
“Then stop asking like you haven’t heard the answer.”
Her face flushed.
“You’re being selfish.”
There it was.
The real word.
Not confused.
Not forgetful.
Selfish.
I looked down at the papers.
“You think keeping my own home is selfish?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re sitting on something that could secure the family.”
“It secures me.”
“You’re my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to help me?”
“Help you do what?”
She opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Because she had no answer that justified what she wanted.
At least none she was willing to say plainly.
“You’re going to get it eventually,” she said.
My entire body went cold.
There it was again.
Eventually.
The word had changed since the first time she said it.
Back then, it sounded thoughtless.
Now it sounded like a deadline.
“I am still alive.”
She looked away.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I gathered the papers.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting these away.”
“You need to sign them.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“No.”
“You haven’t even read them.”
“I don’t need to read paperwork transferring my home to know I’m not signing it.”
She grabbed the corner of the stack.
I held on.
For a moment, we stood on opposite sides of my kitchen table pulling the same pages.
Then I let go.
Ashley stumbled backward slightly.
“You see?” she said.
“You won’t even have a rational discussion.”
“A rational discussion does not require my signature at the end.”
She slapped the papers against the table.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you need to leave.”
Her face went still.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“Yes.”
“I’m your daughter.”
“And this is my home.”
I walked toward the front door.
She followed me.
“This is insane.”
I picked up my handbag from the small table near the entry.
“I said leave.”
She grabbed the papers.
Then followed me into the hallway.
The argument continued near the elevator.
Then inside the elevator.
Then through the lobby.
By then, I was trying not to engage.
I remember watching the floor numbers change and thinking I only needed to get downstairs.
Get near Mr. Alvarez.
Get near other people.
Ashley kept talking.
“You’re going to regret this.”
I looked at her.
“Is that a threat?”
“Oh my God.”
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped into the lobby.
She came after me.
Derek was there.
That surprised me.
He stood near the entrance, as if he had been waiting.
The sight of him made something inside me sink.
“So you weren’t alone,” I said.
Ashley ignored me.
Derek walked toward us.
“Did she sign?”
I will never forget that question.
Not Hello, Ellen.
Not Are you okay?
Not How did it go?
Did she sign?
I looked at Ashley.
She looked away.
“No,” she said.
Derek’s mouth tightened.
“Why not?”
“Because I said no,” I answered.
He looked at me as though I were the inconvenience.
“Ellen, nobody’s trying to take anything from you.”
“Then stop asking me to give it to you.”
He sighed.
“This is about planning.”
“No.”
“It’s smart financial planning.”
“No.”
“You’re being emotional.”
“No.”
Ashley grabbed my arm.
“Would you stop saying that?”
Her fingers dug into my sleeve.
I pulled away.
“Do not touch me.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“In my own building?”
She reached again.
I stepped backward.
“Stop.”
Mr. Alvarez looked up from the desk.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Bennett?”
I turned toward him.
That was when Ashley snatched my handbag.
Maybe she wanted the papers.
Maybe she wanted my attention.
Maybe she simply lost control.
I still don’t know.
She grabbed the strap, yanked it from my hand, and when I reached instinctively toward it, she swung.
The brass buckle struck beside my left eye.
And everything changed.
By the time the police walked through the front doors of my building, I had a cold pack pressed to my face.
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