“I know she has cancer.”

“Then act like you know.”

“I do everything for this family.”

“You put a sick woman in the basement for football.”

“I needed the room.”

“For football.”

“Danny was here.”

“For football.”

He stopped arguing.

“My mother is staying here for as long as she needs treatment,” I said. “The guest room is hers while she is here. The bathroom across from it remains available to her. If you want to watch a game, use the living room.”

Then I added, “If you move her again, I will respond differently.”

“What does that mean?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is not a threat. It is information.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You moved a chemotherapy patient for a football game.”

“She’s your mother.”

“Yes,” I said. “Exactly. She is my mother.”

PART 3

The next morning, I called Judith, my closest friend of fifteen years. She listened while I told her everything.