I tell him how she humiliated our mother in front of school, before most of the kids and many of their carpooling parents.

What do you think we should do? he says. It is rare that he would ask me such a question.

If she calls again let’s tell her Mom’s not home.

He nods absently, deep in thought.

The next day she calls and Mom is home but I tell the woman she is not. The woman sounds like she does not believe me.

Did you give your mother my message? she says.

I wrote it down.

Well I want you to tell it to her this time, she says. She did not say please but I tell her I will and hope she will give up. But she calls again two hours later and I will not answer the phone so Tomas goes over and tells her he wrote down the message and stop calling us if you’re going to use a rude tone of voice and he hangs up on her. The phone rings again and he picks it up without listening to the receiver and drops it into the cradle again. The plastic clicks and rattles. After that we do not answer it and tell our mother not to answer it.

Why? she says.

It’s Maria, he says.

Did you two get into a fight again?

That’s right.

But the next evening she answers the phone and we listen to her whole conversation. Our mother is all quiet, nodding obediently again. It is as if she were in the same room with the yoga mom. Then she tells the woman she does not have insurance. Some time goes by. I can tell by the look on her face that she is getting chewed out.

You should make her get another estimate, Tomas says to Mom later. Eight hundred bucks is outrageous. It’s a complete rip-off.

I could have given our mother some advice or told the woman a few things but I sit in the corner very still with my arms crossed. When the yoga mom calls back, Tomas answers and tells her eight hundred dollars is too much and that he would be happy to take it someplace where he knows people and can get a deal. The woman tells him she wants to get it done by a reputable dealer, and anyway she does not want anyone else driving her car.

But they’re ripping you off, he says. Look. You might be used to getting ripped off and not care, but some people can’t afford not to shop around.

He listens to her say something more.

Fucking bitch, he says, and hangs up.

Mom looks upset.

Did you have to say that, Tomas?

What?

Did you have to call her by those words?

You’re saying you want me to be nice to her?

Mom does not answer him, clearly flustered.