Chapter 2 - Robert left
I almost closed the door.
Then I saw Margaret’s face.
Whatever had happened was real to her.
That did not mean it was my emergency.
“Is somebody hurt?”
“No.”
“Is Daniel hurt?”
“No.”
“Evan?”
“He’s here?”
My voice hardened.
“Obviously.”
She swallowed.
“Robert left.”
For one second I genuinely did not understand.
“Left where?”
“Me.”
There.
I folded my arms.
“I’m sorry. Why are you here?”
“He packed a bag at two in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“He went to a hotel.”
“Okay.”
“He says he’s calling an attorney.”
I stared.
Margaret’s eyes filled.
Not enough to make me forget the dog bowl.
“Claire, he thinks—”
“He thinks what?”
“That I’ve been cruel to Evan.”
“You served him dog food.”
“It was a joke.”
I started closing the door.
She put one hand against it.
“Please.”
“Move your hand.”
She did.
Good.
Then:
“Robert saw the messages.”
That stopped me.
“What messages?”
Margaret looked behind her as though somebody might be standing in my driveway listening.
“Daniel showed him.”
My stomach dropped.
“Showed him what?”
She started crying.
Not loud.
Panicked.
“Claire, I need you to call Robert and tell him last night got out of hand.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“You just told me.”
“He’s saying this has been going on for months.”
“Has it?”
Her face changed.
There.
The question she did not want.
“Margaret.”
“You and I have disagreed about Evan’s manners.”
“That is not what I asked.”
She wiped her face.
“He says Daniel knew.”
My pulse increased.
“What did Daniel know?”
“I need you to talk to him.”
“Margaret.”
She looked past me toward the stairs.
“Not in front of Evan.”
That, at least, was correct.
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
Cold November air.
Bare feet inside slippers.
Margaret wrapped the cardigan tighter.
“What did Daniel know?”
She stared at the porch.
Then:
“I sent him something yesterday.”
“What?”
“A picture.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What picture?”
She whispered:
“The bowl.”
The entire world became extremely simple.
“You sent my husband a picture of the dog bowl before dinner.”
“It wasn’t filled yet.”
“How long before?”
“A few hours.”
“What did you say?”
She did not answer.
I stepped closer.
“What did you say?”
Her voice shrank.
“That maybe Evan would finally learn what table manners look like.”
“And Daniel?”
She looked away.
“What did he say?”
“He told me not to be ridiculous.”
My anger did not ease.
“Did he tell you not to do it?”
“He said don’t start a fight.”
“Did he warn me?”
“No.”
“Did he remove the bowl?”
“No.”
“Did he leave?”
“No.”
“Did he sit beside his son and let you do exactly what you told him you might do?”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“I didn’t think you were going to attack me.”
There.
Her emergency had regained its proper size.
“You need to leave.”
“Claire.”
“Robert leaving you is not my emergency.”
“He is blaming me for everything.”
“Maybe he’s finally distinguishing the person who did it from the person who objected.”
She flinched.
“Please call him.”
“No.”
“If you tell him you overreacted—”
I laughed.
“I did overreact physically. I will handle that separately.”
Her eyes lifted.
“But?”
“But I am not telling your husband that dog food was normal so he’ll come home.”
She began crying again.
“Thirty-eight years.”
“What?”
“We’ve been married thirty-eight years.”
I looked at her.
May you like
“I’ve been Evan’s mother for nine.”
Then I went inside.
