“I’ve seen underwear before.”
“Mine?”
That finally got her to turn around.
“Grace, I’m changing.”
Another afternoon, she opened Harold’s desk drawers looking for stamps.
I found her holding a stack of old receipts.
“The stamps aren’t in there,” I said.
“Well, where does he keep them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, where does he keep them?”
She gave me a look suggesting my marriage might not survive such ignorance.
Then came the birth control.
I’d left it beside my lamp.
Grace picked it up.
Actually picked it up.
“Oh, don’t look so horrified,” she said. “I’ve known my son longer than you have.”
Then came the birth control.
I took it from her.
“That doesn’t make this yours.”
Harold spoke to her that evening.
“Mom, our bedroom is private.”
Grace rolled her eyes.
“Private from strangers, maybe. I’m your mother.”
“Mom, our bedroom is private.”
He told her again the next morning after she walked in looking for a sweater Harold hadn’t owned since college.
“Knock before you come in, Mom.”
“I gave birth to you.”
“Thirty-eight years ago. You can knock now.”
“I gave birth to you.”
I thought that might finally settle it.
Instead, two days later, she removed the entire door.
Grace placed another folded shirt on the bed.
“Honestly, Tina, what are you two hiding in here?”
“My pants, occasionally,” I said.
“What are you two hiding in here?”
She ignored that.
“A family shouldn’t need all these barriers.”
The front door opened downstairs.
“Thank God,” I muttered.
Harold appeared at the end of the hallway, loosening his tie.
He saw me.
Then the empty doorway.
“A family shouldn’t need all these barriers.”
Then the door against the wall.
Then his mother.
“Mom.”
Grace smiled.
“Much better, isn’t it?”
Harold looked at the hardware on the carpet.
“A family shouldn’t need all these barriers,” she repeated.
“Much better, isn’t it?”
I waited for him to explode.
I was prepared to help.
Instead, he picked up one of the screws.
Then he looked at Grace.
“Did you use my drill?”
“The little one.”
“Of course.”
I waited for him to explode.
He put the screw down.
Then he took my hand.
“Come downstairs.”
I stared at him.
“Harold.”
“Come on.”
Grace went back to folding shirts as if we’d interrupted her.
