So did Dad.
I looked at Ethan and realized he still did not understand what had happened.
“This was never about a bedroom,” I said.
“Your mother looked at my parents and decided they were less important because their clothes are worn and their luggage is old.
She knew the guest room was empty.
You knew it too.
And you stood beside her while she made them feel ashamed inside the house they helped buy for me.”
Susan stood abruptly.
“I will not sit here and be accused of looking down on anyone.”
“You told my parents some people should be grateful they were invited.”
“You were provoking me.”
“And the cooler?” I asked.
“Was the cooler provoking you?”
Her face flushed.
“That is not what I meant.”
My father bent down and began to lift it again.
That movement made my decision immediate.
“Dad, put it down.”
He paused.
“You’re not leaving.”
Susan looked at me.
Then I looked at her.
“You are.”
For a second, nobody reacted.
Susan actually smiled.
It was a thin, disbelieving smile, the expression of someone certain the universe would correct me before she had to.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.
Pack your things.”
Ethan stepped between us.
“Rachel, stop.”
“No.”
“She’s my mother.”
“And these are my parents.”
“She has nowhere to go tonight.”
I stared at him.
“Lily lives twenty minutes away.”
His jaw tightened.
Susan folded her arms.
“I am not being thrown out because your parents are overly sensitive.”
That sentence ended whatever small chance she had of recovering the situation.
My mother finally spoke.
“We never asked Rachel to throw you out.”
Susan turned on her.
“Then perhaps you should stay out of family matters.”
My mother went still.
I did too.
Ethan whispered, “Mom.”
Too late.
I picked up my phone from the coffee table.
Susan’s eyes followed it.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you one opportunity to leave without making this uglier.”
She laughed again, but there was less confidence in it now.
“You wouldn’t dare call anyone on me.”
“I don’t want to.
