Chapter 4: The First Time He Looked Away
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Terrell stood in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes shifting between me and Nadine. His mouth was slightly open, as if he had prepared a dozen angry responses but couldn't decide which one to use.
I had seen that expression before.
His father used to wear it whenever someone refused to obey him.
The difference was that I used to look away first.
This time, I didn't.
“Are you seriously threatening me?”” Terrell finally asked.
My hands were trembling, but I kept them at my sides.
“I'm telling you that you won't touch her.””
He laughed without humor.
“You've lost your mind.””
“Maybe I've finally found it.””
Behind me, Nadine made a small sound.
I turned slightly.
“Are you all right?””
She nodded, although her eyes were wet.
Terrell threw his hands into the air.
“This is ridiculous. I come home after working all day, and suddenly I'm the villain in my own house?””
I looked at the clock.
It was nearly eight.
The dinner I had helped Nadine prepare was still sitting untouched on the table. Two plates were arranged beside the centerpiece, and a glass of water had tipped over, leaving a dark stain across the tablecloth.
It was such an ordinary sight.
And somehow, that made everything worse.
How many ordinary dinners had ended with Nadine apologizing?
How many evenings had she spent cleaning up after an argument while pretending nothing had happened?
“Terrell,” I said, “when was the last time you apologized to your wife without blaming her afterward?””
He stared at me.
“What kind of question is that?””
“A simple one.””
“She knows I love her.””
“That's not what I asked.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, you're making this worse.””
“No. I'm refusing to make it easier for you.””
He looked toward Nadine.
“Tell her.””
Nadine froze.
“Tell her what?””
“That we're fine.””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Terrell's expression hardened.
“Go on. Tell her we're fine.””
I watched Nadine's fingers twist together.
“Terrell,” I warned.
He pointed at her.
“I'm talking to my wife.””
“And I'm standing here.””
“Then move!””
His voice cracked against the kitchen walls.
Nadine flinched again.
That small movement told me more than any explanation could.
I turned fully toward him.
“Look at what you just did.””
He frowned.
“What?””
“You raised your voice, and she immediately became frightened.””
“She's being dramatic.””
“No. She's reacting.””
He shook his head.
“You don't know her like I do.””
“Then perhaps you should start asking yourself why the woman you married is afraid to answer a simple question.””
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then he noticed Nadine watching him.
The softness disappeared.
“You see what you've done?”” he said.
“You've put ideas in her head.””
I felt a familiar ache in my chest.
His father had used those exact words whenever I spoke to my sisters about our marriage.
He had accused them of turning me against him.
He had accused me of being influenced.
Eventually, I stopped telling anyone what happened at home.
I had mistaken isolation for keeping the peace.
I wouldn't let Nadine learn that lesson.
“Terrell, your wife's thoughts belong to her.””
He scoffed.
“Whatever.””
He walked toward the dining table, picked up his car keys, and shoved them into his pocket.
“I'm leaving.””
Nadine's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Then he turned toward her.
“And don't think this conversation is over.””
She immediately stiffened.
I stepped forward.
“Don't threaten her.””
“I'm not threatening anybody.””
“You know exactly how that sounded.””
He stared at me.
For a second, I thought he might come closer again.
Instead, he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair.
“You're going to regret getting involved.””
I didn't answer.
He walked toward the kitchen entrance, then stopped.
“Dad would be ashamed of you.””
The words struck somewhere deep.
I felt my throat tighten.
But I didn't let him see me crumble.
“Your father had fifteen years to teach me how to be afraid,” I said.
“He doesn't get to teach me how to stay silent anymore.””
Terrell looked at me for another moment.
Then he walked out.
The front door slammed.
The windows rattled.
Nadine covered her mouth.
I stood still, listening to his footsteps disappear down the front steps.
Only when the sound of his car engine faded did I turn around.
Nadine was crying.
Not quietly anymore.
Her knees seemed to lose their strength, and she grabbed the edge of the dining table.
I rushed toward her.
“Sweetheart?””
She shook her head.
“I'm sorry.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Please don't apologize.””
“I didn't want him to get angry.””
“I know.””
“I thought if I kept quiet, he would calm down.””
I pulled out a chair.
“Come sit with me.””
She lowered herself into it.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach turn.
“He said nobody would believe me if I told them what happened.””
I slowly sat across from her.
“What happened, Nadine?””
She looked toward the door.
Then she pushed her cardigan sleeve up.
There were more bruises than I had seen before.
And suddenly, I understood that the kitchen argument was only the part of the story she had allowed me to witness.
“Sweetheart,” I said carefully, “how long has this been happening?””
She looked down at her wrist.
May you like
Then she answered.
“Almost two years.””
