She said she’d asked her son-in-law in June which bedroom was going to be Eli’s because she wanted to leave the key somewhere for him. His father looked at her and said, “He doesn’t have a room here. He’s sixteen, and he barely comes over anymore. We’re not wasting a bedroom on somebody who visits.” She reminded him that Eli barely came over because there hadn’t been a bed for him at the old house since January. He answered that this proved his point: Eli was already getting used to staying with me, so there was no reason to “start the whole arrangement over again.”
What bothered her enough to have the key cut was that the new house had four bedrooms. His father and stepmother used one, her two grandchildren had one each, and the fourth was being used for storage. She asked why Eli couldn’t at least have that room when he visited. His father said, “Because then he’ll think this is still one of his homes.” She told him Eli was his son and therefore it was his home whether he slept there four nights a month or four nights a year. He told her she was being sentimental and asked her to stay out of it.
She kept the key for nine months because her daughter begged her not to interfere. Then in February she was at their house when she noticed something on the refrigerator: a printed emergency-contact sheet for the family. Every child had a name, phone number, school, allergies, and relationship listed. Eli wasn’t on it. When she asked why, her son-in-law said, “Emergency contacts are for people who actually live here.” That was when she drove to the hardware store again, bought a little paper tag, wrote ELI on it herself, and decided she was finished waiting for permission.
Eli held the key for a long time when she gave it to him, but he didn’t ask to go there. Instead, he asked her one question: whether his father had ever planned to tell him the address. She started crying and admitted there was something else. The week they moved, she’d watched his father address change-of-address cards to relatives, neighbors, his children’s schools, and even the veterinarian. She asked whether he needed one for Eli. His father said, “No. If he wants to know where I live, he can ask.”
