I knocked on Denise’s door that evening.
I was, I want to be clear, very calm. I explained that we had been late because of the parking, that Ben had received a late mark, that I would be grateful if she could make sure to leave the driveway clear in the mornings. I said it the way you say something when you are trying to be a reasonable neighbor and expect a reasonable neighbor in return.
Ezoic
Denise said, “You’ll survive.”
I thought, at first, that I had misheard her.
“Sorry?”
“It was one morning,” she said. “You’ll survive.”
She closed the door.
I want to tell you that I escalated immediately after that, that I had the spine to begin the documentation and the calls and the process right then, in late May, before it went on for twenty-two mornings.
But that would not be honest.
