In my bedroom, I dress quickly in jeans and a
faded t-shirt. Luke sits on the bed in his boxers, watching me,
listening. “I’ll talk to Kent,” I say, more to myself than to him,
trying to boost my courage. I can do this. “I’ll say look, this is
how things are, and he’ll listen.” He hasn’t been drinking much
yet, he’ll hear me out. It’ll be alright, I tell myself. He has to
have seen this coming.
I lead Luke out into the hallway, the house
around us quiet. Far off I hear the sound of running water—Kent
already hosing down his plants, he must’ve left the kitchen door
open if I can hear him from here. Dread rises in me, I don’t want
to do this, I don’t want to say a word…I reach out behind me and
Luke catches my wrist, entwines his fingers with mine. “You sure
you want to tell him
