“How long?”
“Years.”
“Years?”
“Yes.”
She said it proudly now.
As though admitting cleverness.
“I would connect the hose after dark.”
“Water the back lawn.”
“Sometimes the side flower beds.”
“Disconnect before morning.”
“You never noticed.”
I could hear my own heartbeat.
All those old arguments with Adrian.
The notebooks.
Receipts.
Me standing over toilets trying to find leaks.
“Why?”
Margaret stared at me.
“Why would I pay extra when there was perfectly good water ten feet away?”
I almost could not believe the sentence.
“You let us pay for your yard.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
“You let Adrian accuse me of mismanaging bills.”
“That was between you two.”
“You knew why the water usage was high.”
“It wasn’t always me.”
“Not always?”
“Well, obviously you people used water too.”
I had to keep my face neutral.
“Margaret.”
“What?”
“You stole from us.”
She laughed.
“Family cannot steal from family.”
“That is not how ownership works.”
“You were married to my son.”
“So?”
“I gave that family plenty.”
“I watched the children.”
“Bought gifts.”
“Helped Adrian.”
“I earned a little water.”
There it was.
Perfect.
I let her continue another minute.
Then she finally noticed how quiet I was.
“What are you doing?”
“Listening.”
