“I know.”
“And now your wife snaps her fingers and you throw me into the street?”
“No one is throwing you into the street.”
Her eyes filled, but whether from hurt or rage, I couldn’t tell.
“You’ve changed.”
Mark’s face hardened.
“No. I should have spoken up earlier.”
That sentence surprised me more than anything else he had said all night.
Diane turned away from him and looked at Noah.
For half a second, I wondered if she might apologize.
Instead, she said, “I hope you’re happy.”
Noah’s face tightened.
I stepped forward before he could answer. “Do not put this on him.”
Diane walked out of the dining room.
We heard her bedroom door slam seconds later.
Noah remained standing beside his chair.
I reached for him slowly. “Let me see your face.”
“I’m okay.”
“I know. Let me see anyway.”
He lowered his hand.
The mark was fading already, but seeing it up close made my anger return. I touched his jaw gently.
“I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “You didn’t do it.”
“No, but I should have stopped this sooner.”
He shook his head. “Mom.”
“I mean it.”
Mark was still standing across the table.
Noah looked at him.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Mark walked around the table.
“I’m sorry too.”
Noah shrugged automatically.
Mark stopped. “No. Don’t do that.”
Noah looked at him.
“Don’t tell me it’s fine just because that’s easier.”
The words seemed to cost him something.
Mark swallowed. “It wasn’t fine. And I should’ve dealt with it before tonight.”
Noah nodded once.
It was not forgiveness, at least not yet.
But it was honest.
Diane packed loudly enough for the entire house to hear. Drawers slammed, closet doors banged, and at one point something heavy hit the floor upstairs.
I didn’t go to her room.
Mark did.
I heard their voices through the ceiling, sometimes low, sometimes sharp, but I forced myself to remain downstairs with Noah rather than inserting myself into another conversation Mark needed to handle himself.
Twenty minutes later, Noah disappeared into the kitchen.
I watched him open the refrigerator.
He stood there for a second, almost unconsciously hesitating.
Then he reached inside and pulled out the roast beef.
My throat tightened.
He held up the container. “Can I finish this?”
I almost laughed and cried at the same time.
