I thought Monica’s humiliation ended there, dripping pink in my driveway. As it turned out, the paint was the least of her problems.
“I saw the video.”
After everyone finally went home, I stood alone in the driveway looking at the pink streaks on the concrete.
My hands had started shaking.
Not from fear.
From the strange realization that Monica had yelled, threatened, embarrassed me — and the world had not ended because I’d refused to back down.
“Because of the video?”
****
Two weeks later, Mr. Alvarez, Monica’s landlord, knocked on my door. I’d known him for years — he’d been a good friend of my late husband before moving out of state.
“I thought you deserved to hear this from me,” he said. “I saw the video.”
“And?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Her lease is up next month,” he continued. “I won’t be renewing it.”
Paint hadn’t been her only dose of karma.
I blinked. “Because of the video?”
“No. I decided to take a closer look at everything.”