And my daughter — twenty-six, three days from her wedding, in a Sacramento storage unit in June with the roll door up and the heat coming off the concrete — said:

“It’s the invoice.”

Part Eight: The Argument I Lost

We had it in the storage unit and then in her car in the lot for another fifty minutes with the engine running for the air conditioning, and I lost it comprehensively, and I want to set out why, because it was not because my daughter shouted at me.

She did not raise her voice once.

She is better at this than I am and she does it for a living.