“Claire, don’t turn this into a performance.”
“It stopped being a performance,” I said, “the moment you decided silence was cheaper than defending your wife.”
Ezoic
I picked up my purse.
I left the cobbler.
I walked across the grass toward the parking lot. Behind me, the laughter started up again. Thinner this time. Uncertain. Like an audience that wasn’t sure anymore if the show was over.
Nobody called after me.
I got in my car. I sat there for one minute with my hands on the steering wheel.
Then I drove to Richmond.
At the airport, I bought a one-way ticket to Denver, and I turned my phone completely off.
Ezoic
Richard, I knew, would assume I was cooling off at a hotel somewhere. That I’d be back by morning. That I’d sit down and apologize and go back to paying for everyone’s comfort, the way I always had.
