Marcus laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“She volunteered?”
He looked toward the kitchen.
“Elena doesn’t know how to say no to you.”
His mother crossed her arms.
“That’s not my fault.”
“Maybe not.”
Marcus’s voice cracked slightly.
“But it’s your responsibility to stop taking advantage of it.”
His sister stood too.
“You’re being dramatic.”
Marcus turned toward her.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me something.”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“Why is she standing on swollen feet at ten at night while twelve healthy adults sit in this room?”
Nobody answered.
“Why did nobody wash the dishes?”
Silence.
“Why did nobody ask if she was tired?”
Silence.
“Why did nobody notice she was struggling?”
His mother opened her mouth.
Marcus stopped her.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
His voice became quieter.
“Because I noticed in thirty seconds.”
That sentence changed the room.
Marcus continued.
“I walked in after working fourteen hours, and within thirty seconds I could see that my wife was exhausted.”
He looked at his mother.
“You’ve been here all day.”
His mother looked away.
Marcus felt something inside him break.
Not rage.
Something deeper.
Disappointment.
He had always defended his mother.
He had always believed she loved Elena.
He had told Elena countless times:
“She’s difficult sometimes, but she means well.”
Tonight, he wasn’t sure anymore.
He walked back into the kitchen.
Elena was standing exactly where he’d left her.
She had tears in her eyes.
Marcus took her hands.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Bedroom.”
“But…”
“No.”
He gently shook his head.
“The dishes can wait.”
He turned toward the living room.
