“Then tell me what it was like.”
Silence.
The security officer remained by the door.
The consultant stood at the foot of the bed.
My husband knew he couldn’t change the subject anymore.
Finally he said, “Someone needed privacy.”
I almost laughed, but another tightening made me grip the sheet instead.
The nurse checked the monitor.
My husband waited until the wave passed.
Then he said quietly, “She had a procedure scheduled.”
His mother nodded.
I looked between them.
“She?”
Neither spoke.
“You mean your mistress.”
His mother closed her eyes for a second.
My husband finally said, “Yes.”
The word landed differently now that there was no room left for pretending.
The private room wasn’t for a family emergency.
It wasn’t for his mother.
It wasn’t for a relative who had suddenly become ill.
It was for the woman he had been seeing while I carried his four children.
