Later that evening, after the plumber left and the fans were running at full blast, we gathered in the living room. It was me, Nick, Nora, Rick, and the two kids.
“Tommy,” I said, as calmly as I could manage, “you were the last one in that bathroom before we left.”
He looked up, eyes wide. “I didn’t do anything! I just peed!”
“The plumber found Play-Doh stuffed down the toilet,” I said. “And the flush button had been forced down. It ran the whole time we were gone.”
“He’s eleven, Ashley,” Nora cut in. “He knows not to put stuff in toilets.”
“We’re not asking for thousands,” I said, trying to stay level. “Just the plumber’s bill and part of the repair costs. That’s fair.”
“You can’t expect us to pay for damage that happened while we were guests.”
Nora and Rick stormed out, Tommy trailing behind them silently.
That night, Nick and I stayed up scrubbing and mopping. We called contractors, started a list of everything that had been damaged, and cried quietly when Alice wasn’t looking.
“I don’t want them in this house again,” I said finally. “I’m done.”
