kitchen, asking why I was being difficult because I objected to strangers staying in my home.
“I’m not making it ugly,” I said. “I’m noticing that it became ugly without me.”
Ashley began gathering the papers.
“Fine. We can discuss it another time.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“We’re discussing it now.”
I walked to the refrigerator and pulled down the summer schedule she had taped there.
I folded it once.
Then again.
Ashley laughed softly.
Not cruelly.
Almost patiently.
Like I was an elderly woman being unreasonable over something trivial.
“Marianne,
