covered with a sheet that looked like it had been dug out of some forgotten closet. It was wrinkled and stiff.
There were even stains on it. Unidentifiable ones.
And Edgar had pulled this out for my father to sleep on.
I was so speechless I didn't know where to begin.
Yet he stood there, beaming with pride.
"I picked the perfect spot, too. Dad can enjoy the night view out here, smell the flowers, and even—"
"If it's so great, your mother can have it."
My tone left zero room for discussion.
"That's settled. Tonight, my dad sleeps in your mother's room. Your mother sleeps out here."
I turned and headed for Georgette's room to move her luggage.
Edgar panicked. The words flew out before he could stop them.
"No way! My mom can't sleep in a place like a doghouse!"
The second those words left his mouth, my hand moved on its own. I slapped him across the face so hard my palm stung.
"A doghouse. So you know it's a doghouse. And you still put my father out here?"
Before he could react, I hurled the divorce papers at him.
"I want a divorce."
"You are going to pack your things right now."
"Take your mother and this whole circus of freaks, and get out of my house!"
