The operator called from the cab.
“Call the number on the notice once we arrive.”
The son swore under his breath.
His mother said:
“The HOA will cover it.”
The deputy looked toward her.
“Has the board approved that?”
She hesitated.
The vice-president of the HOA was standing near the sidewalk now.
He had arrived after a neighbor called him.
He heard the question.
“No.”
The HOA president turned.
“What are you doing here?”
The vice-president held up both hands.
“I live here.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked toward the deputy.
“No board vote authorized reimbursement.”
The son stared at his mother.
“You said they’d pay.”
“They will.”
The vice-president shook his head.
“No.”
Her jaw tightened.
“This is an emergency enforcement matter.”
“No.”
The vice-president looked exhausted.
“We never approved any parking designation here.”
The HOA president stepped toward him.
“You knew I was handling the east-loop access issue.”
“You said landscaping access.”
“Temporary access is temporary access.”
“No.”
He shook his head again.
“You told us nothing about your son parking in his driveway.”
The son looked from one adult to another.
Something inside him collapsed.
For weeks, he had behaved as though he were protected by an institution.
Now the institution was standing twenty feet away denying it had ever authorized what he was doing.
The tow truck began moving.
Slowly.
The red coupe traveled past the HOA president.
Her son turned and watched.
Nobody stopped it.
The homeowner did not wave.
The truck reached the end of the block.
Turned.
Disappeared.
Only then did the son speak.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
His voice had changed.
“Did you lie to me?”
She stiffened.
“No.”
“The deputy says the driveway is private.”
“He is relying on incomplete information.”
“The board vice-president says nobody approved it.”
“I had authority.”
“You said the whole board knew.”
“I said the board had delegated enforcement.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Her face changed.
For the first time that morning, the homeowner saw something almost like panic.
Not because the car had been towed.
Because her son was beginning to separate her claims from reality.
She pointed toward the homeowner.
“He has been undermining this association since the day he arrived.”
The son shook his head.
“That’s not what I asked.”
The deputy remained quiet.
The homeowner did too.
The son looked directly at his mother.
“Did you know it was his private driveway?”
She stared.
“I knew he claimed it was.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Her own phrase had come back to her.