“You’re not kicking him out.” Her voice softened. “You’re launching him into independent life”

“HI,

Mrs. Leibenson, I’m calling to tell you that your son Yechezkel has been accepted into our group home program. He’s scheduled to move into his new apartment in three weeks. The apartment manager will be in touch with you for details. Hello? Mrs. Leibenson? Hello?”

I couldn’t speak. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Umm,” I croaked. “Are you sure he’s been accepted? We only started the application process a few months ago.”

“Then aren’t you lucky.” The lady’s voice warmed. “There must have been an unexpected opening.”

Lucky. Lucky? My luck had just taken a downward slide. I had never meant to get to this point.

I hung up and dialed Becky. (Does she have any other patients? I’m constantly on the phone with her.) But this time she bailed on me.

“Mazel tov!” she said when I told her the news.

“Mazel tov? Becky, I don’t want to kick Chezky out of the house!”

“You’re not kicking him out.” Her voice softened. “You’re launching him into independent life.”

Yeah, right. I was far from convinced. I hung up and dialed Layee. Left a message.

When was my husband getting home? Was this all his fault? I should have derailed him the minute he got this idea in his head! Instead I personally had laid down the paper path that brought us here! Now what?