“You’ve become someone I don’t recognize.”
I could hear the commentator on the television, tiny and far away, as if it belonged to a different house.
Then one of the guys, Marcus, stood up.
He grabbed his jacket without meeting Richard’s eyes.
“Yeah. I’m out too.”
Two more followed. Each one paused near the doorway to mumble something to me.
“Sorry, Belinda.” “Thanks for the chili.” “Take care.”
I couldn’t answer. I just nodded, holding the edge of the counter so my hands wouldn’t shake.
“Yeah. I’m out too.”
My husband still tried to salvage his ego by forcing a laugh at the two guests still sitting on the couch.
“Wow! Sensitive crowd tonight. It’s just locker room stuff, guys. You know how it goes.”
They didn’t laugh back. They finished their beers quickly and left within 20 minutes.
The front door clicked shut.
Richard turned to me.
“Are you happy now?!” he snapped.
They didn’t laugh back.
“Richard, I didn’t…”
“You couldn’t just laugh it off? You had to stand there as if I were beating you? Do you know how that made me look?!”
I stared at him.
“You held up my underwear in front of six men.”
“I made a joke. That’s what I do. And now David’s playing hero, and everyone’s going to hear about this by morning.”
I didn’t answer. I walked past him to the kitchen, and I finally put the plates down.
“You couldn’t just laugh it off?”
Then I went up the stairs and closed the bedroom door.
I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the triplets breathing through the monitor.
One baby, whom I assumed was Mandy, shifted. She was always moving. Randy sighed. Tobby, as usual, was quiet.
I didn’t cry. I just felt cold.
***
My phone buzzed at 7 a.m. the following morning.
She was always moving.
