Saima Tango(01.03.2021)

Her mom was sweet, and insisted he call her Judy. Her father, Jim, was a big man, and it was easy to see the football player he'd been. Judy made spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, and after dinner, they moved into the living room before having dessert. Judy brought out coffee for everyone and Brody thanked her as he took his and added some cream. "So, I hear you've met Evan," Judy said as she sipped at her coffee. "Yes, I did. He's a tall guy," Brody said, drawing smiles from Ryan's parents. "If he's half as good at basketball as Ryan is at her music, he must be something to watch." He felt compelled to say something complimentary about Ryan. The conversation over dinner had centered around her brothers, and he noticed that her parents hadn't said much to their daughter since they'd arrived. Nor had she said much to them; it was weird. When he'd brought Ryan to meet his family, chaotic as it had been over the holidays, everyone had talked, sometimes at each other, sometimes. She doesn’t mean anything to me. It was an accident.’ I laughed. It was sharp and throaty. It wasn’t my laugh. I could feel my husband wince. I tried to clasp a string of pearls around my throat. My hands wouldn’t cooperate. ‘Why did you tell me? Why now?’ I banged my open palm down on the vanity top. I decided against the pearls. ‘What do you want me to say? That I want to leave you? I don’t. I couldn’t keep it from you. I’ve never kept anything from you for twenty years.’ It was my turn to remain silent. I heard his footsteps retreat in the direction of the master bathroom. They disappeared when he reached the carpet. I heard the door click shut. When I finally turned around, I encountered our empty bedroom. His suit jacket was draped across the bed. When I looked at the blue silk lining, I noticed a loosened thread. I pulled it and snapped it off. The jacket looked as good as new. The door clicked open. When I looked up, my husband was facing me. He clutched the door handle. His.
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