Bruno lowered his voice. “What do you want?”
That question made me sick. He didn’t ask how I felt. He didn’t ask how to make amends. He asked for a price. As if my dignity were on clearance, too.
“I want you to take your things under supervision. I want you to never come near me again. I want your forged signature to cost you. And I want a divorce.”
Mrs. Mireya let out a shriek. “No divorce! You’ll destroy the family!”
I looked at her. “No, ma’am. The family was already destroyed. I just found the dust under the rug.”
Bruno tried to cry. I knew him. First came the arrogance. Then the offense. Then the tears. Always in that order.
“Laura, think of everything we’ve been through.”
I thought. I thought of the Christmases spent cooking for his family while he played cards. The times he hid expenses from me. My forgotten birthday. His shirts ironed for meetings where he told people I “didn’t work.” His mother’s laugh saying I’d probably spend the cleaning lady’s money.
