“Our house.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“I shouldn’t be treated like some stranger in my son’s house.”
“No, Mom. It isn’t.”
Grace stared at him.
Harold nodded toward me.
“Tina isn’t staying with me. We live here together.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
“We live here together.”
Then Grace pushed her chair back.
“So what, exactly, are you saying?”
Harold answered without looking at me first.
“You can stay until your apartment is ready.”
Grace waited.
“You can stay until your apartment is ready.”
“But you knock. You stay out of our drawers. You don’t touch Tina’s things. And our bedroom door goes back today.”
Grace folded her arms.
“And if I don’t agree?”
“We’ll help you find a hotel.”
Her eyebrows went up.
“You’d send your own mother to a hotel?”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“I’d rather you stay here.” His voice stayed calm. “But only if you respect the people who live here.”
