“Where are my clothes?”
He kept spreading mustard on the bread. “What clothes?”
“My maternity clothes. Almost everything from our room is missing.”
“Oh.” He added another slice of bread. “I gave them to Tara.”
I thought I had misunderstood him. Tara was his younger sister, twenty-six and pregnant. Her boyfriend had recently left her. She was struggling financially and working a retail job. I felt for her. I had even offered to give her my maternity clothes once I no longer needed them.
“After Nora arrives,” I said. “I said after the baby.”
Nick looked up. “You already said she could have them.”
“I said she could have them later. I’m still pregnant. I need them for work.”
He sighed. “You’re almost done being pregnant anyway.”
I was wearing maternity scrub trousers I had worn to work that day. They were one of the few pieces left, presumably because I had them on.
