I said: and then the first time you wanted the room, you moved a sick woman to a basement floor.
He said: I think you’re overreacting.
I said: I want you to think about that sentence.
I said: I want you to sit with that sentence and think about whether you actually believe it or whether you are saying it because it is the most convenient thing to say.
He said nothing.
I said: goodnight, Gabriel.
I went to bed.
The next morning I called my friend Judith.
Judith had been my closest friend for fifteen years, which predated Gabriel by three years, and she had the quality of a close friend of fifteen years, which was that she knew me well enough to receive information without filling the space around it with her own reaction.
I told her what had happened.
She said: what are you going to do?
I said: I want to make a point.
She said: what kind of point?
I said: the specific kind that Gabriel cannot argue with.
She said: what does that mean?
I said: he says this is his house. He says he’s the man of the house.
She said: yes.
I said: I want to demonstrate to him what his house looks like without what I contribute to it.
She said: how?
I said: I’m going to invite someone for dinner.
She said: who?
I told her.
She said: oh.
She said: Sara.
I said: yes.
She said: that’s rather elegant.
I said: I thought so.
She said: when?
I said: tonight.
She said: all right.
She said: is there anything you need me to do?
I said: come for dinner.
She said: yes. I’ll be there.
I made two calls.
The first was to my mother’s attorney, whose name was Robert Kim, and whom I had called two weeks into my mother’s stay to have a conversation about something I had been thinking about for some time.
The conversation had gone well.
I had a document.
The document was in my possession.
The second call was to Patricia Greene.
Patricia Greene had been a real estate attorney for twenty-two years.
She had handled the purchase of our house nine years ago, which was how Gabriel knew her, though he had not seen her since the closing.
She was the kind of woman who wore very specific suits and who had the bearing of someone who had spent two decades in rooms where the outcome of significant decisions depended on her precision.
I said: Patricia, I have a matter I’d like to discuss.
She said: certainly. What kind of matter?
I told her.
She was quiet for a moment.
She said: Sara, this is somewhat unusual.
I said: yes.
She said: but it’s not outside my scope.
I said: I know.
She said: you’re sure?
I said: I need him to understand something he doesn’t understand.
She said: and this is your chosen method.
I said: he told me this was his house. He told me he was the man of the house.
I said: I want to demonstrate what that means.
She said: I can be there this evening.
I said: I appreciate it.
I spent the afternoon with my mother.
She was having a reasonable day, which was the way good days were described now, as reasonable, by contrast with the unreasonable ones.
She sat in her chair by the window.
She watched me work in the garden for a while.
I came inside when I needed to start dinner.
She came to the kitchen and sat at the counter in the way she had developed, the position that allowed her to be present without being in the way, that let her participate in the activity of the kitchen without contributing physical labor she did not have.
She said: what are you making?
I said: Gabriel’s favorite.
She looked at me.
She said: you’re being nice to him.
I said: I’m making dinner for guests.
She said: who’s coming?
I said: a few people.
She said: should I stay in my room?
I said: absolutely not. You’re sitting at this table.
