“She thinks backing down means somebody has controlled her.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Her father.”
He hesitated.
“He was difficult. Everything in their house was his way. Denise learned young that if someone told her what to do, giving in meant losing.”
I absorbed that.
Then said, “I’m sorry she grew up like that.”
Paul nodded.
“But?”
“But my six-year-old is not responsible for her childhood.”
His shoulders dropped.
“No.”
“Neither is my job.”
“No.”
“And neither is my driveway.”
“You’re right.”
That was all I needed.
Not a tragic backstory.
Not an excuse.
Just somebody saying I was right to expect access to my own home.
Paul told me he had already arranged for their driveway to be widened.
Apparently Denise had complained about the angle since they moved in.
It would take a few weeks.
Until then, he had told her she could use the road space legally or park behind him and move her car after he left.
