Before the wedding, Daniel told me Vanessa was fragile. “She’s been through a lot,” he said. “Just be patient with her.”
I tried.
I truly did.
On Monday evening, I came home from work with sore feet, still wearing the blouse I had worn to orientation at my new job. Daniel had texted me a grocery list during lunch, then called twice to remind me that Vanessa liked her mashed potatoes “extra buttery.” When I opened the front door, the television was blaring some reality show. Vanessa was curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, scrolling through her phone while laughing at the screen. TV& Video
The kitchen sink was full. Empty soda cans covered the coffee table. Daniel stood near the counter with his arms folded, as if he had been waiting for a servant.
“You’re late,” he said.
“It’s 6:20,” I replied carefully. “Traffic was bad.”
Vanessa did not look away from the TV. “I’m starving.”
