“What about the groceries?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What about when the mortgage payment comes next week?”
He did not look at me as he set the brass pen on the nightstand, right next to my prenatal vitamins. “I left some cash on the kitchen counter.”
“Forty dollars is not going to cover four months of bills, Daniel.”
He lifted the heavy suitcase off the bed, his knuckles turning white under the leather handle. “We are only talking about a few weeks of reception issues on the water, and then I can transfer some funds.”
The silence in the bedroom was heavy, broken only by the hum of the old refrigerator downstairs. I reached down and twisted my plain gold wedding band around my finger, over and over, until the skin turned red and hot.
He carried the bag down the stairs at noon, the heavy thuds echoing through the floorboards of our three-bedroom ranch. I dragged myself out of bed, holding the wood handrail with both hands to reach the living room sofa.
