Empty. Wide enough for two cars if you weren’t particular about how close they were. Her husband’s car was gone, as it was every morning by the time any of this was happening.
“You have roadside spaces directly in front of your house.”
“Sometimes they’re taken.”
“This morning?”
She glanced at the road outside her house. Two empty spaces.
“And you have a driveway,” I said.
She said, “The angle makes it awkward.”
I want you to understand that I had been having some version of this conversation for six weeks. I had knocked on her door and asked her politely and been told I’d survive. Mark had spoken to her twice. I had late marks for my children and a conversation with my manager and twenty-two mornings of working out how to get two school-age boys to school from a driveway I couldn’t access.
