“Privacy isn’t an accusation, Grace.”
“You keep saying we shouldn’t need a closed door unless we’re hiding something.”
“Well…”
I raised my hand.
“A closed door doesn’t mean we’re hiding something from you. Sometimes it means I’m changing my pants.”
“A closed door doesn’t mean we’re hiding something from you.”
Harold coughed into his hand.
Grace ignored him.
“I would never deliberately embarrass you.”
“You walked in while I was changing.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“I did.”
Silence.
“You walked in while I was changing.”
Harold put his toast down.
“Stop making her explain it, Mom.”
Grace looked at him.
“I am trying to understand.”
“No, you’re trying to get Tina to give you an answer you like.”
“I am trying to understand.”
That one surprised all three of us.
Grace recovered first.
“I am your mother, Harold. I shouldn’t be treated like some stranger in my son’s house.”
“Our house.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“I shouldn’t be treated like some stranger in my son’s house.”
“No, Mom. It isn’t.”
Grace stared at him.
Harold nodded toward me.
“Tina isn’t staying with me. We live here together.”
