“What’s so funny?”
I opened my worn handbag and took out a cream-colored envelope.
I’d brought it because Darren’s hesitation on Tuesday had suggested this dinner wasn’t merely social.
Inside were documents I had reviewed with my attorney several days earlier.
Documents concerning the house.
I placed the envelope beside my crooked fork.
Thalia immediately reached for it.
I covered it with my hand.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “before you open this, there’s something you need to understand.”
She pulled her hand away.
“Are you going to tell us you’re secretly rich?”
I looked at Darren.
He seemed unable to meet my eyes.
“No,” I replied. “First, I want to know something much more important.”
Thalia folded her arms.
“What?”
“Darren, how much money have you told your wife you’ve been giving me?”
He went perfectly still.
And I knew, before he spoke, that the answer was going to hurt more than anything Thalia had said.
“Mom,” Darren began, “I don’t think this is the right time.”
I glanced at the table.
“Your wife has just called me a parasite over dinner. I think the subject is already open.”
Thalia looked between us.
“What’s going on?”
I kept my eyes on Darren.
“How much?”
He put down his fork.
“It’s complicated.”
“Then explain it.”
Thalia’s expression shifted.
