“I said I’ll get the money.”
Pause.
“I know when it’s due.”
Another pause.
“Just stop calling me. I told you I’ll handle it.”
She hung up when she noticed me.
Her face sharpened.
“Were you listening?”
“No.”
“Sounded like you were.”
“I came for water.”
“Right.”
I said nothing.
But I remembered the conversation.
By the seventh day, I had cleaned nearly every room in the house.
My hands were dry.
My back hurt.
I was exhausted.
Jason was expected home the following morning.
I kept telling myself:
One more night.
Then perhaps he would walk in.
Hug me.
Thank me.
We would have breakfast together.
Maybe Melissa would behave differently once he was home.
That final morning, I was drinking coffee when Melissa entered.
For the first time all week, she looked cheerful.
“Good morning.”
I almost laughed at the change.
“Good morning.”
She held a sheet of paper.
“I have something for you.”
She placed it on the table.
I looked down.
My name was typed at the top.
MARGARET COLLINS.
Then came a list.
Guest-room accommodation.
Food.
Utilities.
Water usage.
Electricity.
Use of household amenities.
At the bottom:
TOTAL DUE: $2,000.
I read it twice.
Then looked up.
“What is this?”
“Your bill.”
“My what?”
“Your bill for staying here.”
I thought she was joking.
Then I saw her face.
“Melissa.”
“Yes?”
“You invited me.”
“You still stayed here.”
I stared at her.
“You asked me to come because you said the children missed me.”
“They did.”
“I drove three hours.”
“That was your choice.”
I pointed at the paper.
“You want two thousand dollars from me?”
“You used the guest room.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“I bought groceries.”
“You ate too.”
“I cooked every meal.”
“Nobody asked you to.”
I could hardly believe the words.
“I cleaned this entire house.”
“That was also your choice.”
“I watched your children.”
“You’re their grandmother.”
I sat back.
“And you’re charging their grandmother rent.”
She folded her arms.
“Money is tight.”
There it was.
“I need the two thousand dollars before you leave.”
I looked at her.
“You invited me here to make money off me?”
“Don’t twist this.”
“I’m not twisting anything.”
She tapped the invoice.
“You stayed seven days.”
I picked up the paper.
Folded it carefully in half.
Then in half again.
“I don’t have two thousand dollars available right this second.”
Melissa relaxed.
That expression told me everything.
She thought she had won.
“Morning is fine.”
