Greg started lingering in the hallway after dinner, watching Tiffany set the table like she was some rare painting he wouldn’t see again.
One night I asked, “Everything okay?”
“We don’t need to know everything, Sue.”
“Just tired. It’s been a long week, Sue.”
Two mornings later, I saw his mug on the counter, and my mind started spinning.
Tiffany wandered in, rubbing her eyes. “Mom, can we finish my trait chart after school?”
“Of course. We’ll do that straight after your snack.”
When she left, I stood at the sink with Greg’s mug in one hand and a swab in the other. I didn’t want to be the wife who did this.
I saw his mug on the counter, and my mind started spinning.
But I didn’t want to be the mother who looked away either.
“I’m not snooping,” I said aloud. “I’m parenting.”
I scraped the rim. Sealed the tube with one of the two swabs that Greg missed when throwing the kid away.
