“You would throw your own mother out?”
“I didn’t throw you out.”
“You took my door!”
“You took ours first.”
Grace turned to me.
“You must be proud.”
I said nothing. Harold needed to handle this himself.
Grace headed for the stairs.
“I’ll go to a hotel.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“I’d rather sleep in my car than stay somewhere I’m not wanted.”
“Okay.”
She blinked.
“You’re going to let me leave?”
“You said you wanted to.”
“I didn’t mean literally.”
Harold sighed.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want my son to care!”
His voice finally rose.
“I DO CARE!”
The hallway echoed.
“I care so much that I’ve spent my entire adult life trying not to upset you. I call when I’m exhausted. I visit when I have other plans. I let you criticize my clothes, my career, my house, my wife—”
