Imagine Me Gone

by Adam Haslett

He indulges the children to curry favor with them, suspending my bans on this or that, leaving me to stand alone as the enforcer.

Paul stood with his back to me at the sink, doing the dishes. When next we squabbled, he might bring this up, his having cooked and cleaned. He was banking domestic credit.

He’d begun to sweep the kitchen floor. I wished he’d just fight me in the open, rather than going quiet, resentment staying crouched in his throat, waiting but never pouncing.

At my weakest moment, he had refused to doubt us.