Gabriel went pale when he saw me.
“Honey. I didn’t know you were coming home early.”
I looked around once.
“Where is my mother?”
He hesitated.
“My brother came over, and we wanted to watch the game in here because there’s a television.”
“Where is my mother, Gabriel?”
“I moved her downstairs.”
I stared at him.
“The basement?”
“She’s comfortable down there.”
“This is her room.”
His expression hardened, as if getting defensive might somehow make the situation reasonable.
“No, it isn’t. It’s my room. This whole house is mine. I’m the man of the house.”
I said nothing. I turned and went downstairs.
Our basement was technically finished, but nobody would call it a proper bedroom. There was no bathroom and no real window. It contained storage, a laundry area, and the furnace.
In the middle of the floor was an air mattress.
