“So your solution was to put mine outside?”
“It’s Mom’s house!”
“Yes.”
I paused.
“Whose gas bill is it?”
Silence.
Brooke didn’t have an answer.
Neither did Mom.
So I gave them one.
“Mine.”
The next morning, I drove over.
Not because they had convinced me.
Because I had decided the situation had gone far enough.
When I arrived, Mom opened the door wearing two sweaters and a blanket around her shoulders.
The house was cold.
Really cold.
Brooke was sitting on the couch.
Her twins were wrapped in blankets.
