Chapter 3 — The Word “Normal”
I set the pharmacy bag on the table and told Marlene, evenly, that I’d bought her heart medicine and would make us some pasta since the stew was gone.
“Don’t you dare play the saint with me!” Her voice climbed.
“I want to eat the stew I made with my own two hands.
What gives you the right to throw my work in the trash?
Don’t think that because you earn your little paycheck at that office, you can run my family.”
For the first time in five years of marriage, I did not lower my eyes.
“Marlene,” I said, and I was surprised by how calm I sounded.
“I pay half the mortgage on this condo.
I carry this family — the money, the cooking, the caretaking.