My Husband Told Our Daughter to Keep Her Clinic Visits Hidden From Our Bank Account

His heavy work boots left wet gray prints on the linoleum.

He dropped his keys on the counter and rubbed the back of his neck with a rolled-up newspaper.

“Traffic on Interstate Ninety was a nightmare,” Richard said loudly.

“Half the town forgot how to drive in the rain.

I sat on the exit ramp for forty minutes.”

I was sitting at the kitchen table.

The bank statement lay face down under my right hand.

“I went to the bank today to get the hospital deposit,” I said.