“I know.”
“You told her twice. And then I was still the one having to explain why I didn’t want your mother walking in while I was changing.”
“But we’re not done.”
“I thought she’d stop.”
“Why?”
He considered that.
“I don’t know.”
That answer was at least honest.
“Your mother thinks if a boundary hurts her feelings, the boundary is rude.”
“I thought she’d stop.”
He looked toward the hall.
“And I’ve been trying not to hurt her feelings.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded once.
We were both too tired for a marriage seminar in a doorless bedroom.
“I’ve been trying not to hurt her feelings.”
The next morning, I woke to voices downstairs.
Grace was already in the kitchen when I arrived.
She looked terrible.
Harold sat across from her eating toast.
Grace’s doorknob rested beside his coffee mug.
She looked terrible.
She pointed at it.
“I barely slept.”
Harold buttered his toast.
“Why?”
“Because anyone could have walked in!”
“Did anyone?”
“That isn’t the point!”
“I barely slept.”
Harold took a bite.
“Exactly.”
Grace looked at me.
“Tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“That what he did was inappropriate.”
“Tell him what?”
I poured coffee.
“You mean removing your privacy without permission?”
She stopped.
“That’s different.”
“Privacy isn’t an accusation, Grace,” I said.
“I never accused you of anything.”
“Privacy isn’t an accusation, Grace.”
“You keep saying we shouldn’t need a closed door unless we’re hiding something.”
“Well…”
I raised my hand.
“A closed door doesn’t mean we’re hiding something from you. Sometimes it means I’m changing my pants.”
“A closed door doesn’t mean we’re hiding something from you.”
Harold coughed into his hand.
Grace ignored him.
“I would never deliberately embarrass you.”
“You walked in while I was changing.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“I did.”
Silence.
“You walked in while I was changing.”
Harold put his toast down.
“Stop making her explain it, Mom.”
Grace looked at him.
“I am trying to understand.”
“No, you’re trying to get Tina to give you an answer you like.”
“I am trying to understand.”
That one surprised all three of us.
Grace recovered first.
“I am your mother, Harold. I shouldn’t be treated like some stranger in my son’s house.”
“Our house.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“I shouldn’t be treated like some stranger in my son’s house.”
