Page 165 of The Housekeeper

“You’ve been sleeping together since then?”

“I tried to break it off…we stopped seeing each other for a while…”

Probably around the time our lovemaking became more frequent and intense, I realized.

“But she was so persistent…”

“I see. This is allherdoing.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Really? Because it kind of sounded like that’s what you said.”

“Why do you always have to twist everything? Maybe if you’d been a little more understanding, a little less critical…”

“Oh, so now it’smyfault?”

“I think you have to accept at least part of the responsibility.”

“Foryouraffair? I don’t think so.”

“Try to see it from my perspective for just a minute, will you? You make the money, so you make the decisions. You make the money, so your career is more important than mine. You make the money, so your schedule takes precedence over mine. Meanwhile, I make the meals, I look after the kids…”

“That’s ridiculous. I make as many meals as you do; I’m just as involved with the kids—”

“You have no appreciation for what it’s like to stare at a blank computer for hours on end,” he interrupted, “trying to create something worthwhile, to live up to people’s expectations.”

“You obviously lived up to Wren’s quite nicely.”

“She made me feel like a man again, instead of a fucking housekeeper. And, yes, I confess to enjoying feeling wanted and appreciated for a change. Is that so wrong?”

“I have always wanted and appreciated you.”

“Really? Maybe if you’d spent half the time trying to please me as you do trying to please your father…”

“That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“Do I?” he asked. “Where were you this afternoon? I know you weren’t at the office because I called there to tell you I was running late and ask if you could pick up the kids at camp, and they told me you’d left around one. Where were you? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You went to see Daddy.”

“Your sordid little affair has nothing to do with me or my father.”

“I’m right, though, aren’t I?” He shook his head. “If you only devoted half the energy to me, to our family, as you do to…”

Oh, fuck! Here we go again. “This isn’t about me,” I said, cutting short the familiar round of complaints. “It’s about you and the fact that you’ve been having an affair, with one of your students no less, since last summer. It’s about the fact that you’re a liar and a cheat and an all-around fucking jackass.”

He shook his head. “Does it make you feel better to call me names?”

“It does, actually,” I admitted. “Yes.”

We stood staring daggers at each other for what felt like an eternity.

“So, where does that leave us?” he asked finally.

“I don’t know.”

The back door opened. “Can we come in now?” Sam asked. “It’s starting to rain.”

I looked toward the front window, saw a barrage of large drops slam against the glass. Nature imitating the thoughts of man, I thought.Pathetic fallacy,if I remembered my English classes correctly.Patheticwas right. “Of course you can come in,” I told my son.