March 20, 2005
REED STREET AT 64TH, ARVADA
This house was the suburban dream. Windows, fenced yards, culdesac quietness. It had the living room we weren't supposed to use. Fitting the cliche, what was happening inside wasn't dreamy.
Two single, hard working mothers supporting high-energy, sensitive eighth graders. We were back with Teri and her daughter. She rented the house, mom helped pay rent. Her daughter and I had our own rooms while our mothers split the master bedroom.
It all went downhill when I scratched Teri's metal mixing bowl, ending our decade-long friendships. When one door closes another opens. Next.