“That gift was for Daniel.”
“It was for Daniel and the woman he was marrying,” I said. “I’m no longer sure that woman deserves it.”
Her expression hardened. “Over a joke?”
“You handed me a mop,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re too sensitive. You don’t understand how things work in my world.”
I pointed at the door. “Leave.”
Instead, she said, “Daniel says you mean well, but you don’t fit into our world.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Then I opened the door. “Out.”
She left.
I called my son.
He came that evening, looking exhausted.
“Did she come here because of you?” I asked.
“No,” he said, confused.
So I told him everything.
Every word.
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