He selected his most expensive shirts, packed two luxury watches, and placed a bottle of cologne in his carry-on.
It was the fragrance he normally reserved for romantic anniversaries.
“Does your company really require all that?” I asked.
He laughed without looking at me.
“Appearances matter overseas.”
I remembered how frequently he had recently guarded his phone.
I remembered the unexplained hotel charges and the woman whose messages he always dismissed as business.
But suspicion wasn’t proof.
And I had spent eleven years giving him the benefit of every doubt.
The following morning, I drove him to JFK.
David talked continuously about the importance of supporting his parents.
“Mom needs patience, Eleanor.”
I kept my eyes on the road.
“She’s perfectly capable of living independently.”
“Just humor her.”
His voice sharpened.
“And don’t start unnecessary arguments while I’m gone.”
I glanced at him.
“Are you asking me to spend four years obeying your mother?”
