He’d made a promise without consulting me, Diane had withdrawn her assistance, and somehow I was expected to rearrange my job.
“What can you change?”
He looked startled.
“I work those hours too.”
“I know. That’s why we need to work it out together.”
He considered this quietly.
“Okay. I’ll ask about an early shift.”
It wasn’t a complete solution, but I set my phone down rather than immediately calling my manager.
Diane left, abandoning her untouched breakfast.
Once she was gone, I questioned Mark about involving Noah in his demonstration.
“He helped me with the toast,” he said. “I did the rest. Nobody was going to eat it.”
“Please don’t involve him in getting back at your mother. He’s four.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
He carried the tray to the trash.
Watching him discard the food, I realized I needed more than his support over kitchen hygiene. I needed to know whether he’d respect a decision he disagreed with.
That evening, I visited the website of a daycare center two streets away.
I’d toured it before Diane moved in but hadn’t enrolled Noah.
I completed an inquiry form for Tuesdays and Thursdays, noon until six, then hesitated at the price.
Diane’s childcare had been free. Professional care would reduce our savings.
From the living room, I heard Noah requesting Grandma’s walrus voice.
She obliged, and he burst into laughter.
I considered closing the website, asking for another month, and giving Mark more time.
But what would another month accomplish?
After entering Noah’s name, I paused over his starting date, imagining how he’d feel when Grandma wasn’t waiting to collect him.
None of this was his choice.
Still, I submitted the inquiry.
The director phoned the following morning.
They had an opening, although pickup had to be completed by five-thirty.
I scheduled a visit before work and wrote down the details for Mark.
He studied the note.
“I’ll have to leave earlier.”
“Can you?”
“My supervisor says I can switch on those two days. I’d have to start at six.”
I pictured early alarms, childcare fees, and Noah adjusting to unfamiliar routines.
It was nothing like the arrangement I’d imagined when welcoming Diane.
“Are you willing to do that?” I asked.
He slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
I visited the daycare that morning, asking how they helped children settle in and whether Noah could come beforehand.
When I returned, Noah greeted me carrying two cushions, looking miserable.
“Grandma says the zoo’s closing.”
I knelt beside him and helped return the cushions.
We could arrange future visits with Diane, but I couldn’t promise his routine would remain unchanged.
“We’ll build it again,” I told him.
On Friday, Mark presented a listing for a furnished apartment.
It offered a short lease and would become available when Diane’s six weeks ended.
Beside the childcare costs, he’d written the required deposit and first month’s rent.
“She says she doesn’t want another temporary place.”
“Have you told her this is an option?”
“I said we’d look at it together.”
I examined the figures.
Helping Diane relocate while paying for childcare meant postponing the weekend getaway we’d been saving for.
I’d been excited about having uninterrupted time with Mark.
Now that money would be spent restoring privacy in our own home.
Mark indicated the listing.
“Could she stay until the tenant leaves?”
“Do you know when that is?”
“No.”
“Then that’s the same question again.”
He set down his pen.
“She’s going to say I promised.”
“Will you tell her what you told me? That you expected me to get used to it before you asked?”
