I closed my eyes.
“Ben, inside.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Both boys disappeared.
Denise pointed toward my house.
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve turned this into some huge drama.”
“No, Denise. You parked across my driveway 22 mornings in a row.”
“It wasn’t 22.”
I opened my phone.
“Would you like dates?”
She didn’t answer.
I started anyway.
“May 27. Twenty-eighth. Twenty-ninth. June 3—”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“June 4. Fifth. Sixth—”
“Stop.”
“Tuesday the ninth, you blocked us for 22 minutes.”
Her eyes shifted.
I continued.
“My children were late. Again. I was an hour late to work. I came to your house and asked you, politely, to stop.”
Denise muttered, “I said I’d try.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“You said, ‘You’ll survive.'”
She remembered.
I could tell.
The officer could too.
For the first time, she looked embarrassed.
Only for a second.
Then anger covered it.
“Fine. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You shouldn’t have parked there.”
“What difference does it make to you if I’m only there for a few minutes?”
“It makes the difference between my children getting to school and sitting in a driveway.”
“I have nowhere else to put it in the morning.”
I actually looked at her house.
Her empty driveway.
The two legal roadside spaces outside it.
Then back at her.
“You have a driveway.”
“My husband leaves early.”
“Then use it after he leaves.”
“It’s awkward.”
“Awkward?”
“The angle.”
I stared at her.
That was the reason.
Twenty-two mornings.
Three late marks.
A meeting with my manager.
And her driveway angle was inconvenient.
“You blocked my driveway because you don’t like reversing into yours?”
She flushed.
“It’s narrow.”
“So is mine.”
“Your hedge makes it harder for me.”
I almost laughed.
“Then don’t park at my hedge.”
She threw her hands up.
“It was temporary!”
“Twenty-two mornings is not temporary.”
The officer interrupted.
“Madam, you need to decide whether you’re dealing with the vehicle now.”
Denise turned back toward him.
In the end, the car did not get taken away.
She moved it before the final removal process was completed.
But the penalty stayed.
So did the formal record.
And apparently that was enough to ruin her morning.
Good.
At 7:42, I put the boys in our car.
We reversed out of our driveway without asking permission from anybody.
Oliver clapped.
Actually clapped.
