Laura’s name lit up the screen.
When I answered, she screamed so loudly I pulled the phone away.
They’d realize what they’d just done soon enough.
“Craig! How could you do this to me?”
I sat up in bed.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Mercedes. Brent just read that paper.”
So he’d finally found the second sentence.
“Craig! How could you do this to me?”
“You tricked us!”
“No. You signed a document confirming that you inspected and accepted the car with the $7000 balance still unpaid.”
“You said it was for your insurance.”
“I told you exactly what it was. You chose not to read it.”
For a moment, all I heard was her breathing.
“You tricked us!”
Then her voice dropped.
“Stop whatever you’re doing.”
“You owe my shop $7000.”
“We’re not paying you.”
“Then I’ll handle it the same way I’d handle any other unpaid bill.”
“We’re not paying you.”
Silence.
Then Laura reached for the one thing she’d always been able to use against me.
“Rick and Noah are supposed to come to you tonight, aren’t they?”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Don’t.”
The one thing she’d always been able to use against me.
“Drop this, Craig.”
“The boys have nothing to do with your repair bill.”
“They do if you make them.”
Then she hung up.
***
When I got home that afternoon, everything was already waiting for them.
“Drop this, Craig.”
The cereal Noah liked was in the cupboard. I’d put fresh sheets on Rick’s bed. The pizza we’d ordered every Friday was on its way.
All I could do now was wait and see whether Laura had meant what she’d said.
Six o’clock came.
Then six-thirty.
At seven, I texted Laura.
The pizza we’d ordered every Friday was on its way.
Where are the boys?
She answered ten minutes later.
Plans changed 🤷 They’re staying here.
I stared at her reply.
I started typing, then stopped.
For months, I’d argued with her every time she did this. It had never gotten me anywhere.
Where are the boys?
So this time I sent one question.
Why are you keeping the boys on my weekend?
Her answer came less than a minute later.
Drop the claim over the Mercedes, and maybe we can discuss next weekend.
I read it twice.
I sent one question.
For months, Laura had always left herself an excuse.
The boys were tired. They were sick. They had plans.
This time, she had put it in writing.
For the first time, I wasn’t going to have to convince someone what Laura meant.
