“Mom, why are my suitcases down here?” I asked.

Margaret looked down at the navy canvas bags on the rug, then across at the framed mirror on the wall.

“Things have gotten really hard between the two of you,” Margaret said.

“Your brother is under an enormous amount of stress with his job search.”

“He spent nine hundred dollars of the house money on computer equipment,” I said.

“He needs it for his mental health,” Margaret said.

She folded the yellow towel in half, and then in quarters.