I stared at the table, cheeks flushing.
“It’s just $5,” I said, trying to stay calm for the babies. “I need to eat. The babies need me to eat for them.”
“Five dollars adds up,” he muttered. “Especially when you’re not the one working.”
“It must be nice, huh, Rae? Spending money that you didn’t earn.”
A table nearby went quiet. A gray-haired couple in the next booth looked over. The woman’s mouth tightened like she’d swallowed something bitter.
“You want some crackers while you wait, sweetheart?” Dottie asked, her voice low and kind.
“I’m okay,” I said, shaking my head. “Thank you.”
A table nearby went quiet.
“No, honey. You’re shaking. That happens to me when my blood sugar levels are low. You need to eat.”
She left before I could argue. I pressed my hand to my belly, imagining the babies hearing everything. I wished I could shield them from the world. I wished I could keep them from ever hearing their father’s taunts.
I wished I could do better… for them.
When Dottie came back, she set down a glass of iced tea and a little bowl of crackers on a napkin.
“No, honey. You’re shaking.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Is everyone in this town trying to be a hero today?” Briggs said.
Dottie didn’t break stride. She just looked straight at him and raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not trying to be anything. I’m just being a woman who’s reaching out to someone who’s struggling.”
When the salad came, there was grilled chicken on top. I hadn’t asked for it.
Dottie didn’t break stride.
“That part’s on me,” Dottie said, leaning in gently. “Don’t argue, missy. I’ve… been you.”
I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I ate, slowly and gratefully.
Briggs barely touched his burger. When I was done, he threw notes onto the table and stormed out first.
“Charity is embarrassing,” he snapped the moment we got into the car.
“Don’t argue, missy. I’ve… been you.”
“I didn’t ask for anything.”
“No, you just sat there and let people pity you, Rae. Do you know how that makes me feel?! Do you know how that makes me look? You embarrassed me yet again.”
“I let someone be kind, Briggs. And that’s more than I can say for you.”
He didn’t say another word. And for once, neither did I.
“You just sat there and let people pity you.”
That night, he came home late from a client meeting. There was no loud entrance or smug grin.
There was just the rattle of keys on the kitchen table and the quiet slump of a man whose armor had cracked.
I stood in the hallway, watching him. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes. Instead, his head hung low, elbows on his knees, like he was waiting for bad news to stop echoing.
“Long day?” I asked gently. “Can I make you something for dinner?”
I stood in the hallway, watching him.
“Don’t start, Rae,” he said, not looking at me.
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just asking how your day went and if you’d like something to eat, Briggs.”
He rubbed his jaw, like the question annoyed him more than the answer.
“Nothing. People are just… annoying. And dramatic.”
I waited, letting the silence press in.
“People are just… annoying. And dramatic.”
“That diner lady knows somebody,” he muttered. “She must have said something horrible to someone. It can’t be a coincidence. My boss called me in. The client requested I don’t come to meetings anymore.”
He glanced away.
“They took my company card.”
My heart didn’t race. My stomach didn’t drop. There was no dramatic swell of satisfaction. Just… a small exhale.
“The client requested I don’t come to meetings anymore.”
“Can you believe that?” he said, half-laughing. “Over nothing!”
“Nothing? Really?” I asked, tilting my head.
“She gave you free food. I said one comment and she was after my head. People are too sensitive these days.”
