“Sorry ma’am, but your son and husband were sent a letter a couple of months ago, and there has been no response. I’ll leave this with you, so please pass it on.”
She opened the door and was handed the letter. He saw the absolute fear and terror in her eyes and added, “So sorry, I’m only doing my job.” With that he left and she stood motionless for a few minutes before returning to the loungeroom. Sinking into her armchair she burst into tears. “What will we do now?” she screamed out loud.
It was in this position that Dimi found her that night. Whistling a chirpy tune he entered with a bag of groceries and was surprised to see her sitting in the dark without the television on. She had not moved, her mind was spinning with all she had been through, the sacrifices she had made, the dreams and aspirations she had had.
“What’s the matter, love?”
Trembling she responded, “Read this!” She thrust the letter in front of his face.
“You know I can’t, what is it?”
“We are being evicted, the house is being sold, we have to move out, and we’ve got 90 days to leave.”
He suddenly felt weak, his legs gave way as he joined her on the couch.
“The house John’s building is almost finished I’m sure, we’ll be in there soon, just you wait and see. He’ll drop in soon to tell us.”
She glared at him, “What house Dimi? I can’t see anything being built, it’s all a dream inside your head and his.” She got up to get dinner, a bit of normality after the day’s trauma.
Dinner was a quiet affair, both lost in their own thoughts, too self-absorbed to share their disappointments. At last she broke the silence, “So what now, dreamer?” He looked at her, wounded, and replied defensively, “I’ll talk to him.” After dinner he went to the front door and stared at the block opposite, the scaffolding was still up, the ground floor’s concrete had been laid, yes, his son was building a house, not a palace, but a place to live. He was certain it was just a matter of time.
