Page 55 of In a Word, Yes

Second-guessing may be my forte, but there’s no time for it. “Definitely.”

“Good call,” she says, and I pray Sam agrees.

Moving on, I knock softly on Brad’s open door. “Hey, Brad?” I say.

He doesn’t look up, just keeps working the bright-green toothpick in his mouth while staring at his computer screen.

I clear my throat. “Brad, could I trouble you to...” Wait. That’s a floss pick! Ew, ew, doubleew! Also, I’m right here; the man has to hear me. “Brad,” I say again, fighting the quaver in my voice, “I just got a call from Beverly over at The Rusty Bucket. She says there’s a picket line forming in front of city hall.”

He cracks his neck side to side.

It isn’t the first time a man has thrown down a wordless gauntlet at my feet. Daring me to do something other than acquiesce. Fully believing I won’t.

“You mean you plan to keep ... seeing her?” I asked.

Across the dining table, Devin mopped up steak sauce with a hunk of my homemade sourdough. Washed it down with beer.

Dead air hung between us, holding a thousand hateful words, oneshe’d increasingly hurled at me over the past year. His need to seek attention from other women? He’d have me believe it was a direct result of my choosing the needs of a “weird kid” over his. Howmany times had he threatened that if I didn’t make Chase “snap out of it,”hewould?

Recently he’d followed through.

There’d been early red flags, of course. Signs that Devin’s controlling nature didn’t bode well for parenthood,let alone the demands of parenting a child with special needs. Looking back, I could easily pinpoint the moment he checked out on our family—the firsttime Chase stimmed in public. And now, not only was I expected to stand by as my husband’s unregulated anger aggravated Chase’s symptoms and left him cowering infear, I was to turn a blind eye to his infidelity?

I watched the man chew. Then wipe his lips with one of the napkins Nana embroidered for a wedding gift.

A single question rose hot beneath my sternum:You believe I broke him, don’t you?Except that when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out.

The girl who loved words had no more.

And as much as she never wanted divorce to be part of her story, the moment Devin left for work the next morning,she left her wedding set on the kitchen counter, loaded the car, and began driving.

To this day the smell of steak sauce turns my stomach.

I square my shoulders. “Apparently downtown business owners have organized a protest.”

Brad emits a grunt that hardly passes as human communication.

“About the proposed bypass.”

At last he turns my way. “And...?” Stroking his goatee, which appears extra pointy today, he draws out the one-word challenge. Okay, so this is how he wants to play it. From the moment Brad got wind that Sam left me in charge, he’s been wearing that juvenile scowl.

Guess I’ll have to state the obvious. If we miss this story, it will be old and stagnant news by next week. I swallow hard. “And...” I say, keeping my tone light but drawing out my own response, “we need to cover it. If you can get the shot and an estimate of how many are in attendance, I’ll take it from there. We need to get this in, stat. You can send it to Sam’s email. I’ll watch for it.” I make a move to head back down the hall to work at Sam’s desk.

“Wait, what?” he says, ripping the floss pick out of his mouth. “You thinkI’mgoing to go? Who authorized this? Where’s Meg?”

“Actually, Brad, it’s me.I’mauthorizing this. Meg’s got her hands full editing the op-eds. I’d go myself, but I figured you wouldn’t be too keen on taking over the proofreading.”

Brad smirks. “Proofreading is so not my gift.”

And all the people said amen.

Sam, Sam, Sam, what were you thinking?Fine. I just ... I needto be more commanding. Strengthen my core muscles, if I can find them, and lean into my spine.

“In that case,” I say, crossing my arms, “we’re all counting on you to head over to city hall. So please take a clean shot. This is front page.”

I can’t recall a time when Brad gawked at anyone the way he’s gawking at me now. Is it possible to repurpose a toothpick as a weapon? This standoff could go either way.

“Brad!” Meg shouts, appearing in the hall behind me. “Stop being an impudent child and do what Lucy says, you moron!”