I had admired that about her.
I hadn’t realized how much she resented the attention my business received.
“Did you tell her I was trying to overshadow her?” I asked.
Michael lowered his eyes.
“Sometimes I agreed with her because it was easier than arguing.”
I studied my son.
“Even when you didn’t believe it?”
He nodded.
“I kept thinking she’d feel better after the wedding.”
I reached for my tea.
“Michael, being insecure is painful. I understand that. But she entered my bedroom while I was sleeping and removed my hair without my consent.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Your wife planned to humiliate me into staying home. That isn’t a misunderstanding about wedding etiquette.”
He nodded again.
“I told her that.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said she didn’t think the trimmer would leave marks. That she thought you’d wear a scarf for a few days, and your hair would grow back.”
I stared at him.
“Did she understand that I’m sixty-seven? That my hair took decades to grow?”
He wiped his eyes.
“I don’t think she considered you as a person when she did it.”
That answer hurt.
But it was also the first time Michael had spoken about his wife’s behavior without trying to soften it.
He looked toward my scalp.
“Mom, I’m ashamed that I didn’t notice anything at the church.”
“I was wearing a wig.”
“I know. But you seemed different. You barely spoke to me.”
“I was frightened.”
His face crumpled.
