“My son made the biggest mistake of his life marrying you. You were always a terrible homemaker. Always whining about money. Always complaining about bills.”
Bills.
That word suddenly stopped me.
The pool explained this month’s bill.
But what about all those years when Harold and I had fought because our expenses never made sense?
“You need to disconnect that hose right now.”
“I’m not disconnecting anything. And when Harold hears how you screamed at his mother over a little water, he’ll straighten you out like he always did.”
Normally, those words would have silenced me.
Terrible wife.
Stingy.
Family.
The same phrases she had used for years to make me back down.
But now I was standing in wet grass staring at a $240 explanation for at least part of it.
I was done.
“Are you finished?” I asked calmly.
Diana blinked.
“What?”
“I asked whether you’re finished. I want to make sure I remember everything you just said.”
