I was working in my loft office with headphones on when headlights swept across my windows. I looked down and saw a twenty-six-foot U-Haul in my driveway. Behind it sat my father’s beige Buick. My phone, still on Do Not Disturb, showed fifteen missed calls and a flood of texts.
They were almost here. They hoped my driveway was clear. They told me to pick up. No one rents a truck that size for a visit. My stomach sank. I went downstairs, turned on the floodlights, and opened the front door, but I stayed planted in the doorway.
“Dad. Mom. What is going on?”
Arthur marched up the porch steps, soaked from the rain and already irritated.
“Carter, finally. Get a coat. We need to unload before the mattresses get wet.”
“Unload? What mattresses? Why are you here?”
He looked at me as if I were stupid.
“We’re moving in, obviously. Now move. It’s freezing.”
