That did it.
I stepped out of my doorway.
“Do not bring my children into this.”
“They’re standing there staring.”
“They’ve spent three mornings sitting in my car while you made them late for school.”
“I never made anyone late.”
Ben said, very helpfully, “You did.”
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.
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“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 own driveway without asking permission from anybody.
Oliver clapped.
Actually clapped.
“Mum, we’re early!”
That hurt more than I expected.
A six-year-old should not be excited because his own driveway is usable.
We got to school 12 minutes before the gate opened.
Ben looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Do I still get a late mark?”
“No.”
He smiled.
That was worth the 5:30 alarm by itself.
I arrived at work early too.
My manager, Karen, stared at me.
“Everything okay?”
“Neighbor problem.”
“The car?”
I’d had to explain it after the third late morning.
“Handled.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Legally?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
Then she handed me a coffee.
I thought that was the end.
It wasn’t.
Of course it wasn’t.
That evening, Denise knocked on our door.
My husband, Mark, answered.
He knew nothing.
I’d deliberately kept the whole plan from him because Mark is a decent man with one major flaw.
He believes almost every conflict can be solved by “just having a calm chat.”
Sometimes it can.
Sometimes you’ve already had six.
I was in the kitchen when I heard Denise say, “I need to speak to your wife.”
Mark looked back at me.
“What happened?”
“Long story.”
Denise heard.
“She had my car nearly towed.”
Mark slowly turned toward me.
“You what?”
“Nearly.”
Denise said, “She waited until I was asleep and called parking enforcement.”
Mark looked from her to me.
“Why?”
I crossed my arms.
“Because she blocked the driveway again.”
He sighed.
“Denise.”
She immediately said, “It was six in the morning!”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
That surprised me.
Mark came fully outside.
“How many times have I asked you not to park there?”
She looked irritated.
“I don’t know.”
“At least four.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He glanced at me.
“I asked her too.”
“When?”
“Couple of weeks ago.”
I hadn’t known that.
Denise said, “You were nicer about it.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose.
“Apparently it didn’t work.”
I loved him a little extra for that.
Denise looked at me.
“You cost me money.”
“No. Parking illegally cost you money.”
“You knew I would move it.”
“I knew you would move it if there were consequences.”
Her face tightened.
“You embarrassed me in front of the street.”
I looked past her.
Nobody was outside.
“At 6:30 in the morning?”
“People saw.”
“Your car has embarrassed my children in front of their class three times.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I felt my anger rise.
Then Mark touched my arm.
Not to stop me.
Just enough to remind me the boys were upstairs.
I lowered my voice.
“Do you know what Oliver asked me last week?”
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Denise said nothing.
“He asked if his teacher thought he was naughty because his name kept going on the late chart.”
Something changed in her face.
Not enough.
But something.
“He asked me if we should leave home earlier because of you.”
Denise looked away.
“He is six.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I don’t have children.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t understand clocks.”
Mark coughed into his hand.
I almost smiled.
Denise looked at him.
“Are you going to let her speak to me like this?”
Mark stared at her.
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“You’re standing at our front door complaining that my wife finally dealt with a problem you refused to stop causing.”
She went quiet.
Then she said, “I just think involving authorities was excessive.”
I answered, “I think 22 mornings was excessive.”
That ended the conversation.
Or I thought it did.
