“You should talk to him,” she said. “Like, actually talk. Not the way you guys usually talk, about bills and the gutters and my SATs.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“I’ve always been smart,” Maddie said. “You just didn’t notice because I roll my eyes a lot.”
I talked to him that night.
We were in bed. The lights were off. I could hear the crickets outside the open window.
“Irvin,” I said. “I need to tell you something. And I need you to be honest with me.”
He took his arm off his eyes. He turned his head on the pillow to look at me.
“Okay,” he said.
I told him. All of it. The kitchen table. The cookies. I’m going to take your husband. Men get bored after that many years. You should start preparing for divorce.
I told him about scraping the cookies into the garbage and crying on the kitchen floor. I told him about the gray hairs. The hot flashes. The bathroom mirror.
