Allen, my husband, had seen me talking to one of my coworkers at the end of our shift. He was picking me up because my car was in the shop. He saw me chatting amiably with Rick, and on the basis of that he’d imagined this elaborate affair Rick and I were supposed to be having and hassled me nonstop over dinner.

“You’re wrong. Just wrong.” I shoved back from the table. “I’m not fucking Rick!”

But by then, after more than an hour of Allen’s haranguing, I’d had it. I went to grab my coat.

Allen followed me to the front door. He didn’t try to apologize, just kept on with his baseless accusations.Enough,I thought, and went out the door. I stormed down to the corner, flagged a cab and disappeared into the city night.

The whole thing... Leer Más