I slept in the nursery that night.
There was no crib anymore, so I built a small nest of pillows against the wall and lay on the carpet beneath the window.
Daniel knocked twice.
The first time, he asked if I wanted the bed.
The second time, he said we needed to talk.
I said nothing.
At two in the morning, I heard his voice downstairs.
Low.
Careful.
He was talking to someone.
I moved quietly into the hallway.
The house carried sound strangely at night.
I couldn’t hear every word.
But I heard enough.
“You need to stop pushing.”
Pause.
“No, I didn’t tell her that.”
Pause.
“Because she’s pregnant, Mom.”
A longer pause.
“I know what you think.”
Then quieter.
“No. I said I would handle it.”
I stood on the landing in the dark.
I said I would handle it.
I had heard that tone before.
Daniel used it with contractors.
With insurance companies.
With the cable company.
When there was a problem to be solved.
Apparently I was the problem now.
I returned to the nursery before he came upstairs.
In the morning, I called a locksmith.
Daniel had already left for work.
I told myself I was not being dramatic.
Susan had destroyed property in my home during an argument.
She had entered using a key.
She was moving personal belongings into my guest room without my consent.
Changing the locks felt less like retaliation than common sense.
The locksmith arrived at ten fifteen.
He replaced the front and back locks.
Two new keys.
I placed one on Daniel’s side of the kitchen counter.
The other went into my purse.
At eleven twelve, Susan called.
I didn’t answer.
At eleven fourteen, she called again.
Then again.
A message appeared.
You changed the locks?
I stared at it.
Another message.
Laura, call me immediately.
Then:
You had no authority to do that.
There was that word again.
Authority.
I typed a response.
You no longer have permission to enter our home without either Daniel or me present.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Her answer came.
You are making a very serious mistake.
I almost wrote, No, you made one when you threw the crib.
Instead I put my phone down.
My hands were trembling.
I hated that she could do that to me without being in the room.
At noon, Daniel called.
“You changed the locks?”
“Yes.”
“You actually did it.”
“I told you I was going to.”
“Mom called me hysterical.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“She says you won’t let her in.”
“That is correct.”
“Laura.”
“She has no reason to come in while neither of us is home.”
“We talked about not escalating.”
“No. You told me not to escalate. We did not agree.”
He was quiet.
I could picture him standing in the hallway outside his office, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“She thinks you’re trying to cut her out of the family.”
“I’m trying to stop her from entering my house whenever she wants.”
There was a pause.
Then he said, “Our house.”
I almost smiled.
It was so careful.
So deliberate.
“Our house,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“Then we should both decide who gets a key.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you mean.”
He didn’t.
By late afternoon, I had convinced myself the worst part was over.
Susan was furious.
Daniel was angry.
But the boundary was physical now.
A locked door.
Something solid.
Something I could trust.
At five thirty, I started making pasta.
At five forty-eight, someone pounded on the front door.
Not knocked.
Pounded.
I froze.
Again.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
“Laura!”
Susan.
My entire body tightened.
I did not move.
“Laura, open this door!”
She hit it again.
I picked up my phone.
“Susan, go home.”
“I know you’re in there.”
“I’m not opening the door.”
“You cannot lock me out of this house.”
“I can lock anyone out of my house.”
She made a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief.
