Zero balance.
I took a screenshot. I sent it to Greg with nine exclamation points. He sent back a GIF of a man doing a backflip.
So we invited the family over to celebrate.
The champagne. The cork in the potatoes.
The toast.
I barely spoke the rest of the night. I cleared plates. I smiled when I had to. Karen helped me with the dishes and didn’t look me in the eye once, which I noticed and didn’t understand.
Diane hugged everybody at the door except me.
On her way out, she stopped in the doorway of the den. She looked at the wall under the window. She nodded to herself, the way you’d nod at a parking space you were planning to take.
Then she left.
Long after everyone was gone and Greg was snoring, I sat alone at the kitchen table in the dark.
I kept replaying it. The tape measure. My room. D. For the house. The way she’d been walking through my rooms for four years like she was touring them.
