My irritation didn’t vanish.
But something shifted.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were doing all this?” I asked.
Vanessa laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Because everybody needs something from me.”
Josh stiffened.
She looked at him.
“Dad needs me. The kids need me. The school needs forms, snacks, clean clothes, permission slips. The house needs groceries. Dinner needs making. Somebody has to remember appointments. Somebody has to notice when we’re out of detergent.”
“I help,” whispered Josh.
Vanessa turned toward him.
“Sometimes.”
He looked offended.
“I do more than sometimes.”
“You take the trash out and mow the lawn.”
“I pick the kids up.”
“On Tuesdays.”
Josh glanced at me as if hoping I’d stop the conversation.
I didn’t.
Vanessa’s voice shook.
“I’ve been telling you for months that I’m exhausted.”
“I knew you were stressed.”
“No. You knew I said I was stressed. Then everything kept getting done, so you decided I must have it handled.”
That sentence caught me.
Everything kept getting done.
I looked at my washer.
Then at Vanessa.
Then at Josh.
Suddenly, I could see the shape of the whole problem.
Josh had been taking Vanessa’s effort for granted because she kept carrying everything.
