I got dressed properly this time and even put on real shoes.
I didn’t know why that mattered, but it did.
By the time I walked outside, Danielle was halfway down the passenger side.
Foam had already crossed the curb.
She saw me coming and shut the water off with her thumb before I said anything.
Then she set the nozzle on the hood and told me she’d been hoping to catch me.
Now I waited.
Danielle rubbed her hands together.
“I’ve been meaning to mention that the neighborhood garden committee is doing its summer judging next weekend.”
I stared at her.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Your front bed.”
“My hydrangeas?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated.
“I nominated your yard.”
For a moment, I genuinely thought I’d heard her wrong.
“You did what?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“You nominated my flowers for something?”
“Your whole front yard, technically.”
I looked at the soap around my mother’s hydrangeas.
Then I looked at her.
“You’ve spent six weeks washing detergent into the flower bed you nominated?”
Danielle’s face tightened.
“It’s biodegradable.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is that I’ve asked you five times to stop.”
