My husband had twins with my best friend. I signed the divorce papers without a word. Then he went to his mother’s house, and she went white and said, “She still hasn’t told you about that?”
And then he went to her house.
The nineteenth of April. Two days after he left mine. He turned up with two suitcases and a story in which he was the wronged party.
I was not there. I have this from Bernadine, at her kitchen table, on the eleventh of June.
He told her about the twins. He told her that he had “finally” got what his marriage never gave him.
And his mother went white and said:
“She still hasn’t told you about that?”
She meant the report. She thought I had confronted him with it three weeks earlier and that the divorce was the result.
And Corbin said, “Told me what?”
And Bernadine Wray, seventy-one, looked at her son in her own kitchen and understood, in about two seconds, three things at once.
That he had not been confronted.
