He did not raise his eyes. He cleared his throat, a soft, trailing sound that never turned into a full sentence.
“Can we discuss this later, Nora?” he murmured, his voice barely rising above the hum of the refrigerator. “I have to get to the school before the first bell rings.”
“We need to discuss it now,” I said. “Tell your mother who pays the bills in this house.”
Diane watched him, her arms still crossed tightly. She had a look of absolute certainty on her face, the kind of look that only comes from years of quiet agreements made behind closed doors.
Eric took a step backward toward the hallway, his fingers tapping the side of his phone with a rapid, nervous rhythm that always signaled his desire to flee.
“Nora, please,” he said, his voice dropping into that familiar, placating tone he used whenever the room became tense. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what, Eric?” I asked. “Ask my husband to state a simple financial fact?”
He glanced at his mother, then quickly looked down at his screen again, his thumb flicking upward to scroll through another page.
