That evening, I confronted Daphna when she came to collect the boys.
“We need to talk,” I said, blocking the doorway.
“Can it wait? Matt’s taking me to dinner,” she said.
“No, it can’t wait. This has to stop. I’ve lost work. My laptop’s ruined. My walls are destroyed. I can’t keep doing this.”
Daphna’s expression shifted from rushed to annoyed. “Seriously? They’re your nephews, Amy.”
“Family helps family,” she said. “You’re single. Your time’s flexible.”
That word. Flexible. Like my life was made of rubber.
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