“When she removed Dad’s reading chair from his study because she thought it looked old, you said furniture wasn’t worth arguing about.”
“We bought another chair.”
Susan looked at him.
“You bought another chair. You didn’t replace the chair my father sat in every morning for twenty years.”
Richard looked away.
Susan continued packing.
“Every time something hurts me, you minimize the thing until my reaction becomes the bigger problem.”
“Sometimes you make things bigger than they need to be.”
Susan zipped the suitcase shut.
“And sometimes you make me smaller than I should have to be.”
Richard went quiet.
Susan carefully placed a framed photograph of her father between two sweaters.
“What happens tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow I’m meeting with an attorney.”
Richard’s entire posture changed.
“An attorney? Why?”
“To understand my options regarding this house and our marriage.”
“Susan, we’ve been married five years.”
