You like to stop by your Dad's house and cook him dinner once or twice a week. It makes you feel good to know he's not eating alone every night. You usually close out the meal with some typical chit-chat, updating each other on what you're up to, what you've heard about whom. But tonight, just as you're finishing the dishes and getting ready to put your coat on, your Dad will remember a bit of news.
"Oh by the way, if you wanna see Mom she's upstairs. Mom lives in my attic now, but don't tell the Feds."
After your mom and dad divorced, your mom started getting in a lot of trouble with the IRS and eventually a warrant was issued for her arrest. Apparently she reached out to your Dad and he was fine with her hiding out in his house, her old house for that matter, as long as she didn't make too much noise.
"And none of your sing-songy voice," he said during the negotiation. "Hated the way you couldn't say a word to me without having to sing it like we was living in a musical."
Your Mom agreed to his terms and now she's upstairs on an air mattress, reading some magazines.
"Just like old times," she says when you come up and see her.
You ask her if this is just some ploy to get back together with Dad.
"God no," she says. "It's just if the Feds find me I'll die in prison."
"Quiet up there!" your Dad shouts through the floorboards, banging the ceiling with a broom handle.
"Don't worry about me sweetie," your Mom says. "It's just so nice to be back in my old house, even if I have to stay in the attic."
Your Mom will live alone in your Dad's attic for the next twenty months, until one night your Dad climbs upstairs and asks your Mom if he can sleep up there with her that night because for the first time in 30 years he's scared to be alone. Your Mom will welcome him to her air mattress, and they'll live together in the attic for another four months. Then one night your Dad will die (of natural causes) and your mom will take off before the police show up for the body. She'll write.
Happy Mom Lives In Dad's Attic Now Day!
