“I never said it was funny.”
“You’ve turned this house into a dump!”
“No.”
I pointed toward the floor.
“We turned it into this.”
He stared at me.
“I have a job too!”
“So do I.”
“I work all day!”
“So do I.”
“I come home exhausted!”
“So do I.”
He opened his mouth, but for once, there was nothing he could say.
Then he looked around the room.
The dirty plates.
The clothes.
The cups.
The things he had left behind.
And suddenly, his anger became something else.
He looked embarrassed.
But instead of taking responsibility, he became angry again.
“So what? You want me to come home from work and clean too?”
I looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
He laughed.
A short, bitter laugh.
Then he said something I will never forget.
“Megan, maybe you still don’t understand.”
He stepped closer.
“I chose you precisely for this.”
I felt the room go completely still.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He gestured toward the house.
“You were the kind of woman who would keep things running.”
I couldn’t speak.
He continued.
“You don’t complain. You don’t make scenes. You clean. You take care of things. You’re dependable.”
I stared at him.
