Gypsies

There's no way out. Or is there?

Photo by Sarah Brown on Unsplash

The tension at the dining table simultaneously felt to Lynette as though it was so taut it would somehow snap at any moment and all hell would break loose and as if the thick miasma of it was poisoning her lungs and would soon stop her breath.

The situation at her son’s house had become untenable. Lyn had moved in with his family six months ago when the financial advisor Gary had suggested to her had absconded with her retirement money. All of it. Gary had felt guilty at the time and offered her the room their daughter, Shari, had vacated when she moved in with her girlfriend.

Lyn had sold her house and invested the proceeds with a well-known brokerage and made sure insurance covered her now much smaller portfolio. With the income from the investment, along with her government pension, she was doing okay financially. Not amazing, but she could manage.

Everything was fine for the first few months. Gary kept apologizing for his mistake. His wife, Ginny, who had always been a little cold to Lyn, made an effort to get along, perhaps sharing a sense of guilt with her husband.

But then Shari broke up with her girlfriend and moved back home. As there was now no bedroom for her, she moved into the family room in the basement. That’s when things became tense. Not with Shari. Lyn adored her and the feeling was mutual.

It had been small things at first. Little comments. Ginny would drop in a word or two about how cramped things were now with all of them in them house, softening the statement with the suggestion of a smile. But Lyn noticed that the comments were never directed toward Shari.

The digs quickly evolved into attacks, spoken with an increasingly acid tongue.  Not all of them were directed at Lyn. Gary bore the brunt of many. Shari offered to try to find a place on her own, but Ginny didn’t actually want a solution. The truth was, the house was spacious and the only inconvenience of having Shari home was the need to pass through her space to the laundry room. That could have been solved by building a downstairs bedroom for her.

Instead, Ginny chose to return to her favorite pastime—complaining and blaming. “We wouldn’t be cramped like this if you hadn’t stuck your nose into your mother’s investments.” That had been today’s opening salvo. It had quickly devolved into a rant about how Gary had ruined all their lives and how Ginny didn’t see why she should have to put up with Lyn until the “old woman” died. Seriously? Lyn was only sixty-eight. Old woman indeed!

Even Ginny knew she had gone too far. She froze, only her eyes shifting to briefly meet Lyn’s, a look that somehow managed to convey both guilt and triumph, before turning on her heel and storming from the room. That had been right before dinner.

Lyn forced air into her lungs. One long, slow breath, then another. The weight on her chest eased a fraction. She set her fork down, though she hadn’t touched her meal. The ache in her stomach made it abundantly clear that it would protest any invasion of its space.

She sucked in another breath and, before she could chicken out, blurted out the words, “I’m leaving next week—moving out on my own.”

Gary’s jaw dropped. He started to speak, stopped, stared at her. “Mom…”

Lyn wanted to say something in response to Ginny’s quickly stifled smile of triumph. This time there hadn’t been a hint of guilt to go with it. Instead, she said, “Gary, this isn’t a decision I made today. I’ve been planning it for a few months.” It was true. Ever since she had read Nomadland—even before her retirement funds had gone poof—Lyn had been thinking about a more adventurous life. And researching.

“But you can’t afford to buy or rent another place,” Gary persisted, shooting Ginny a poisonous look. “I know things have been tough, but we can make this work.”

Now that she had begun, the weight lifted from Lyn’s chest—and her shoulders. She felt freer than she had in years. Since Fred had died and the house they had shared had begun to feel confining, more like a cage than a home.

“I bought a small motorhome last week. I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you. I’ve decided to travel the country.”

Even Ginny seemed stunned by that pronouncement, though she didn’t say anything. Shari, on the other hand, had a few choice words for her mother. “This is your fault. You’ve harassed and harangued Gran ever since I moved home. Maybe even before that, for all I know.”

“Don’t you speak to me like that, young lady.” Ginny turned to Lyn and opened her mouth to start on her.

“Don’t!” Shari said, dropping her fork on her plate with a loud clang. She bolted to her feet. “I’ve watched you belittle everyone around you for my entire life. Honestly, you’ve abused Dad forever. I don’t know why he stays.”

Lyn watched her granddaughter with growing horror. This family was imploding. “Shari, sweetheart…”

“No, Gran. This has been coming for a long time. It’s the reason I moved in with Lainie and why I have to get out of here now. I have some savings and wouldn’t mind traveling for a while. Is there room in your motorhome for one more?”

Lyn only paused a second before standing to join her granddaughter. She pulled her into a hug. “It will be cramped, but we’ll make it work. “She didn’t spare a glance for Ginny, though she knew the words would hit home. “Let’s go be gypsies together.”

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Reedsy sent out prompts inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s writings on September 9, the anniversary of his birth. (His birth year, if you’re interested, was 1828.) I chose the one that suggested writing a story with someone breaking an awkward silence at a family dinner

Most people don’t know that my first university studies were in Russian language and literature. I admit that my interest in these came from growing up with a Russian first name (after my godmother) in a decidedly non-Russian family. In high school, I became friends with someone who planned to study Russian, and caught the bug.

Tolstoy was never my favorite Russian author. I was more of a Dostoevsky girl. However, I did read a number of Tolstoy’s books and I think the tension in this family is one he would appreciate if he were writing today.

With regards to Lynette’s decision to engage in a Nomadic lifestyle, it’s one many older people whose finances in retirement are less than ideal (There are a lot of socio-political reasons for this becoming increasingly common.) are embracing. For most, it’s not an easy life.

Writer Jessica Bruder hit the road for most of a year to document what life was like for this population. She wrote a book about it. Here’s a link to Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century. (It’s not an affiliate link.) I listened to it on Audible. It was eye-opening. There’s also a movie by the same name, though I haven’t watched it and have no idea how true it is to the book.

What do you think about this solution to unaffordable housing? Would you do it?