Tim is back with us, has been for over a week now.
For ten days he did not contact us except to ask Jerry to bring down more of his stuff and have his newspaper re-routed (again).
We had done all we could to bring about reconciliation. We could only wait.
On the tenth day, when we had in hand a Jane Austen film he’d wanted to see (Persuasion, which seemed appropriate) and could offer one of our usual dinner-and-DVD nights without it seeming awkward, I called.
Tim answered. He didn’t hang up when he heard my voice. Yes, he’d like to come. And–he missed us.
He seemed a bit withdrawn that night. (My stomach was in such knots, not knowing what might happen, I had taken an Ativan before we picked him up.) I avoided a lot of questions I might have asked him under normal circumstances because they seemed like prying now. It went well, all things considered. Uneventful.
I was sure he would stay. But he didn’t.
The next night he called to ask if he had left his keys in our car. He was locked out of his apartment complex. We said he hadn’t but we had duplicate keys. He asked if a friend could drop him off at our house after AA and if it would be okay with us if he spent the night.
We said sure.