“I laughed.”
“What did he do?”
“He just looked at me.”
She copied his voice.
“‘I’m serious.'”
I felt anger rise, but I didn’t interrupt.
“He said I was already embarrassing him.”
“I told him I wasn’t wiping mud on my wedding dress.”
“And?”
“He said I was already embarrassing him.”
I leaned forward.
“Because you wouldn’t clean his shoe?”
She nodded.
“I told him he could clean his own shoe.”
“He said being his wife meant putting him first.”
There it was.
Enough to make my stomach turn.
Tina stared at the floor.
“I told him he could clean his own shoe.”
“Good.”
“He opened the passenger door.”
“He got really quiet.”
“What happened next?”
She took a shaky breath.
“He opened the passenger door.”
“Okay.”
“Then he told me I wasn’t getting a ride home until I apologized.”
“I thought if I apologized, he’d stop.”
“For refusing?”
She nodded.
“And cleaned the shoe.”
I didn’t speak.
Tina whispered, “I thought if I apologized, he’d stop.”
“Did you?”
“I don’t even know why. Maybe because it was my dress.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
She gave a broken laugh.
“I don’t even know why. Maybe because it was my dress. Maybe because something finally sounded wrong when he said it out loud.”
