None of us were strangers to conflict. Working at a dry cleaner in a neighbourhood like this, you see some things. You meet humans at their lowest, desperate to steam their sins away.

I thought I knew all the ways one man could turn on another, but a grey peacoat with a mustard stain proved me wrong.

When I found that little beige card, I wasn’t surprised. Dissapointed, maybe. But not surprised. The way I see it, this was between Tony, his confessor, and the big man upstairs.

My uncle didn’t agree. His wife, my aunt, always arrived at 12:30 on the dot, bringing sandwiches and callused fingers that could sew a hem tighter and straighter than anyone else in this city.

By 12:30, my uncle had worked himself into a frenzy.

“Tell her what you found!” Sal shouted, barreling out from the back.

Maria raised her eyebrows, no stranger to Sal’s moods. She handed me my sandwich with an apologetic smile.

Catholic women think they can feel the guilt on their husband’s behalf and sneak him through the pearly gates.

“I told you!” I replied. “It’s none of our business!”

“None of our business? None of OUR business? We are at my business,” Sal said. “Discussing my business! Nothing has ever been more our business.”

“Darling, calm down,” Maria said. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out.”

“We won’t work it out. Some things can’t be worked out!” Sal said.

“What do you want me to do, Zio?” I asked. “He’s a good customer.”

“He WAS a good customer,” Sal said.

“You want me to tell him not to come back?” I asked.

“I want you to tell him WHY he can’t come back. Twenty years, I’ve been fixing this man’s clothes without judgement. After his bachelor party, he brings me his leather pants covered in booze and piss, and I say nothing to no one. Three years later, he starts going on vacations and bringing back suits covered in…”

He paused to glance at his wife, who was still holding two sandwiches and an impatient expression.

“…well, there’s a lady present so I won’t be specific. The point is, I say nothing to no one. Then, the sequin dresses, that I know wouldn’t fit his wife, god bless her soul. I stay quiet as a mouse. And then the suit. The damned suit that I cut and stitched until he looked like one of those fairies up on a billboard in Time’s Square. The next day, he brings it back, the whole right side soaked in blood. I don’t tell a soul. But this. I’m finished with him. Finished!”

I needed to deescalate. Being familiar with conflict meant knowing when to let it run free and when to rein it in.

“Zio—“ I started, but he was not backing down.

“No! No! Some things are unforgivable.” Sal said. “You young people want to let everyone get away with everything, but this has consequences!”

“Sal, for the love of God, what are you talking about?” Maria asked, fed up and wanting to eat her sandwich.

“Show her!” Sal said, gesturing violently in my direction.

I sighed and reached into Tony’s peacoat pocket. Holding the little beige card between two fingers, I offered it to my aunt while Sal continued to fume.

Maria took it and flipped it over, reading, “Lee and Sons Tailors and Dry Cleaning.”

“Unforgivable!” Sal shouted. “Twenty years and he disrespects me like this? I know their prices aren’t better.”

“See, Zia,” I said, “what can we do? We’re going to ban him for going somewhere else?”

Maria crushed the card in her fist.

“We’re going to do more than ban him,” Maria said, “your uncle’s right. Some things really are unforgivable.”