Chương 3
Now he stood and began collecting the bread.
He got down on one knee and reached beneath the dresser.
Margaret watched him.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s going to go stale under there.”
“That is not the emergency at the moment.”
“It’s a piece of bread.”
He found it, dusty along one side, and carried it to the trash can.
Laura almost laughed.
Instead she started crying.
Not loudly.
There was no dramatic collapse. Her shoulders simply folded inward as if somebody had loosened a bolt inside her.
Evan stopped beside the trash can.
The anger on his face changed.
He crossed the room and knelt in front of her.
Laura looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I am.”
“Not yet.”
She looked at him.
He spoke quietly.
“I can’t hear you apologize right now because if you apologize, I’m going to tell you it’s okay, and it’s not okay.”
She nodded.
That hurt more than if he had shouted.
Evan looked at her legs.
“When did the worst one happen?”
She touched the outside of her right calf.
“Tuesday.”
“I was here Tuesday.”
“You were at work until nine.”
“I was home by nine-fifteen.”
“It happened at eight.”
“You went over there?”
“She called.”
“And you didn’t call me.”
“You were rebuilding that transmission.”
He stared at her.
“You could have interrupted me.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Laura looked down at her hands.
Because there had always been another transmission.
Another overtime shift.
Another customer whose car had to be finished before morning.
Another week when the mortgage, Margaret’s property tax, the electric bill, and the balance on the credit card seemed to be standing in line outside their front door.
Because Evan had been working sixty-hour weeks since the dealership down the road closed and half its customers poured into his shop.
Because Laura’s own hours at the dental office had been cut from five days to three.
Because Margaret had spent twenty-seven years working at the county clerk’s office and hated asking anyone for help.
Because Laura’s mother had spent the last eleven months of her life in a nursing facility where people addressed her as “sweetie” and once left her sitting in a wheelchair for four hours beside a Christmas tree in February.
Because Laura had promised herself, at twenty-four, that needing help would never become a reason to stop listening to someone.
Because there was a difference between respecting a person’s choices and assisting them in pretending nothing was wrong, and Laura had crossed that line slowly enough that she never saw it.
All of those reasons existed.
None excused Tuesday.
“I thought I could handle it,” she said.
Evan looked at her for a long time.
“That sounds like something I would say.”
“I know.”
Margaret shifted in the chair.
“I can go home now.”
Both of them said, “No.”
Margaret recoiled.
Evan glanced at Laura.
Laura wiped her face.
Margaret looked from one to the other.
“Lovely,” she said. “You’re a team again.”
Evan stood.
“You’re staying here tonight.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
“And I’m exactly as scared as you thought I’d be.”
“You do not own me.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to order me around.”
“No.”
“Then stop.”
Evan took a breath.
“What do you want me to say, Mom?”
“I want you to say I can go home.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. The words are simple.”
“I won’t.”
Margaret stood.
The grocery bag crackled against her cardigan.
“You see?” she said to Laura. “This is why.”
Laura stared at her.
Something inside her finally gave way, but not in the direction Margaret expected.
“No,” Laura said.
Margaret stopped.
“This is not why.”
“You agreed with me.”
“I was wrong.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
Laura continued.
“I thought I was protecting you from losing choices. What I actually did was help you hide things until none of us had good choices left.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe.”
“I am going home.”
“You can be angry with me.”
“I am.”
“You can hate me.”
“Don’t be theatrical.”
“I’m not.”
Laura stood despite the ache in both legs.
“But I’m done lying.”
Margaret’s eyes flickered.
“Laura.”
“No.”
It was the first time Laura had ever used that tone with her.
Margaret seemed to feel it physically.
“If you walk home tonight, I’m calling Evan before you reach the sidewalk.”
Evan looked at Laura.
She ignored him.
“If you cancel tomorrow, I’m telling Dr. Patel why we made the appointment. I’m telling him about the medication. I’m telling him about the calls at night. I’m telling him you didn’t recognize me. I’m telling him about the poker.”
Margaret’s face drained.
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“You gave me your word.”
“I should not have.”
“A promise means something.”
“It does.”
“Apparently not to you.”
Laura took that without flinching.
“I’m still breaking it.”
Margaret stared at her for several seconds.
Then she set the grocery bag on the floor.
“I suppose I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Evan said, “You can take the bed.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I am not putting your wife out of her own bed after apparently assaulting her for an entire season.”
Laura looked at the floor.
Evan looked exhausted.
“We have a guest room.”
Margaret frowned.
“You do not.”
“The room with the sewing machine.”
“That room is six feet wide.”
“It has a bed.”
“It has a cot with ambitions.”
Evan almost smiled.
Almost.
“Then the cot with ambitions is yours.”
Margaret picked up the bag again.
“Fine.”
She walked out of the bedroom.
At the door she stopped.
Without turning around, she said, “There are cinnamon rolls in the bag. The good ones from Weller’s.”
Then she left.
Evan looked at Laura.
Laura looked at the empty doorway.
“She does that,” she said.
“What?”
“Changes the subject when she’s terrified.”
“So do you.”
Laura gave him a tired look.
May you like
“Apparently I married into it.”
This time he did smile, but only for a second.
