I spent months avoiding one hallway because my father-in-law refused to close the bathroom door. Then I finally decided to teach him what discomfort felt like.
At 10:32 a.m., I carried a folding chair into the hallway.
At 10:34 a.m., I set a little side table beside it.
At 10:36 a.m., I brought up a lamp, a mug of tea, and the paperback I had been pretending to read for three weeks.
My husband, Eric, came out of our room and stared at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“In the hallway?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the bathroom.
Then back at me.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
I opened my book.
“Don’t what?”
“You know what.”
I smiled.
“I really don’t.”
Eric lowered his voice.
“My dad goes to the bathroom around now.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you sitting there?”
“Because this is a common hallway.”
He stared at me.
I took a sip of tea.
“The door’s wide open if he doesn’t like it.”
Eric actually winced.
Good.
At 10:43 a.m., Dan came up the stairs.
Phone in one hand.
Reading glasses hanging from his shirt.
He stopped when he saw me sitting three feet from the bathroom door.
“What the hell is this?”
“Evening.”
He frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Eric.
Eric immediately looked at the floor.
There it was again.
That same move from breakfast.
Apparently, eggs weren’t required.
Dan pointed at my chair.
“Move that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m using the bathroom.”
I glanced toward the open door.
“Okay.”
He waited.
I went back to my book.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“I said I’m using the bathroom.”
“And?”
His face reddened.
“And I don’t want you sitting here.”
I gave him the most innocent expression I could manage.
“You can just not look.”
Eric made a sound that might have been a cough.
Dan stared at me.
I had wondered all day whether I would actually have the nerve to say it.
Turns out anger is excellent for courage.
“Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“This is my house.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
I closed my book around one finger.
“Dan, I’m not telling you what you can do in your bathroom. You made that very clear.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m just sitting in the hallway.”
“Right outside the door.”
“Yes.”
“While I’m on the toilet.”
I shrugged.
“You can close the door.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Eric whispered, “Claire.”
Dan turned on him.
“Are you going to let your wife act like this?”
That did it.
Not because he was angry at me.
Because he asked Eric whether he was going to “let” me do something.
Like I belonged to one man in the house and was being disrespectful to another.
I stood.
Dan looked satisfied for half a second.
Then I picked up the chair.
“You’re right.”
Eric visibly relaxed.
I carried the chair six feet farther down the hallway and set it directly in front of our bedroom.
I sat again.
“Better?”
Dan stared at me.
From where I was sitting, I could still see straight into the bathroom.
“You’re being childish.”
“Probably.”
“Then stop.”
“Close the door.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You’re not going to win this.”
And there it was.
Win.
I hadn’t thought we were competing.
Apparently, Dan had.
He stepped into the bathroom.
Then, while staring directly at me, he sat down and left the door completely open.
I looked at my book.
He looked at his phone.
Eric stood between us like a hostage negotiator who had lost control of both sides.
Two minutes passed.
Then I picked up my phone.
Dan looked up immediately.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
“Don’t point that thing in here.”
I wasn’t.
Not even close.
But suddenly privacy mattered.
Interesting.
I placed the phone face down on the table.
“You seem uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Okay.”
“You’re the one making this weird.”
I almost laughed.
Then my mother-in-law, Susan, came upstairs.
She stopped halfway down the hall.
She looked at me.
Then at Dan.
Then at the chair.
“What is happening?”
Dan answered first.
“Your daughter-in-law has lost her mind.”
Susan looked at me.
I said, “I’m reading.”
“In the hallway?”
“Apparently, that’s controversial.”
She looked toward her husband.
“Dan, close the door.”
