They set it with Marilyn’s best china and crystal, and the turkey smelled delicious as she basted it. They were planning to have six o’clock dinner, and Larry had gone to watch football at a friend’s, and said he’d be home in time for dinner. But at six o’clock he still wasn’t back and didn’t answer his cell phone when Marilyn called him. They waited for him until seven. The turkey was getting dry by then, and Marilyn was fiercely upset.
They sat down to dinner at seven-thirty, an hour and a half later than planned. The biscuits were slightly burned, and the turkey and stuffing were undeniably dry. No one mentioned Larry’s absence during dinner, and Marilyn served pumpkin and apple pies for dessert, with homemade vanilla ice cream. And after they got up from the table, the boys and Gabby helped her clean up. By ten-thirty, everything was put away, and Gabby pretended not to notice Marilyn crying as she walked upstairs, just as Larry walked in, trying to act as though nothing had happened. The kids disappeared like mice, and went down to the playroom in the basement to watch a movie.
Marilyn turned and looked at him from the stairs. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were blazing. He looked as though he’d been drinking all day.
“Where were you?” She had been worried about it all night.
“I had dinner with a friend,” he said, as though it were any other day and not Thanksgiving. But he wasn’t fooling anyone but himself.
“You missed Thanksgiving dinner,” Marilyn said, as their eyes met.
“Sorry, I had something else to do,” he said brusquely, pushing past her on the stairs, and as he did, she could smell liquor on his breath and see lipstick on his collar, a great smear of it that felt like a slap in her face.
“You’re disgusting,” she said under her breath, and as soon as she did, he grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him.
“I don’t give a damn what you think,” he said, and then pushed her away. She nearly lost her balance and fell down the stairs, but caught herself with the banister before she did.
“Did you have to do that tonight?” she said, as she followed him to their bedroom. He looked disoriented for a minute, and she realized just how drunk he was. He walked across the room unsteadily and sat down on the bed. He had been with another woman all day.
“I’ll do it whenever I damn well want to. I don’t give a damn about Thanksgiving anyway. Or about you,” he added for good measure, and she was grateful that the boys couldn’t hear him. As she looked at him, she wondered why she had stayed for so long, why she had put up with the insults and the degradation, the drinking and the disappointment, and the pain of knowing or suspecting he was cheating on her all the time. She had told herself she did it for the boys, but now she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just afraid to be alone, or to lose a husband she hadn’t loved in years. There was nothing in Larry to love, and she knew he didn’t love her.
“Go back to wherever you were today. I don’t want you here with the kids, in the condition you’re in,” she said calmly.
“What are you talking about?” He looked unconcerned and lay down on the bed. She could tell as she looked at him that the room was spinning for him, and she didn’t care.
“I’m telling you to leave,” she said, standing over him and looking down. He took a swing at her and she moved out of range. “If you don’t get up right now, I’m calling the police.”
“My ass, you will. Just shut up. I’m going to sleep.” She picked up the phone and started to dial 911. She wouldn’t have done it, but she wanted him to think she would. He was off the bed in seconds, and ripped the phone from her hands and threw it at the wall, and then he backhanded her across the face before she could get away from him. He hit her hard, and she looked at him with a hatred she never knew she had in her. There was a thin trickle of blood running
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