My mother-in-law blocked the entrance to my new apartment and screamed that her son had bought it for her, ordering me to leave.

I did not hug him.

We sat.

For a while, he stirred coffee without drinking it.

“My mother is staying with Grace,” he said.

“Good.”

“Grace is making her pay rent.”

“Excellent.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile, then faded.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I waited.

“I’m sorry I forged the documents,” he said. “I’m sorry I moved my mother in. I’m sorry I tried to continue reading …