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I close my eyes and silently inhale. Then, “I called a place today, a facility, that cares for people with Alzheimer’s. It’s in Dallas.”
“For Jenny, you mean?” Ta, tap tap tap tap, the knife viciously pelts the cutting board.
“Yes. I know it’s been hard on you having her here.”
No response.
“Anyway, I’m waiting on them to call me back and we’ll go from there.”
“Who’s going to pay for this facility for your aunt?”
My jaw drops. “Listen, Shep, I’m doing this for you.”
He scoffs.
“This is me trying to make things better between us. Do you not see that?”
“Who’s going to pay for it?”
“I don’t know!” I throw my hand into the air. The wine sloshes from the glass in the other, splashing the toe of my boot. My ugly she-let-herself-go shoes. “Insurance, maybe, I don’t know. Jesus Shepherd, you?—”
“Fuck!” The knife tumbles from his hand, clattering onto the tiled floor. Blood gathers on the white cutting board, speckling the garlic.
I slide my wine on the counter and follow as Shepherd hurries to the sink, having to side-step Banjo who is interested in the sudden burst of commotion.
“Are you okay?”
“No I’m not okay! I cut my freaking finger.” Ugly hives form around his neck.
He’s shaking—with anger or adrenaline from the pain, I’m not sure.
“Here let me—” I try to take his hand but he jerks it away.
“Just get the fuck away from me, Rowan. Shit.” He rears back, shoving his heel into Banjo’s ribs.
I stumble back, grab Banjo’s collar. “Hey, you just kicked Banjo.”
“He was trying to jump on me.”
Speechless, I watch my husband wash the deep gash next to his fingernail.
It’s then that I see it—a small tattoo on his wrist. A new tattoo, peeking out from under the band of the watch he never takes off. As the soap rinses away, the shape reveals itself. The tattoo is of a V balancing on an upside-down triangle with an X in the center. A symbol of sorts.
“What is that?” I ask.
“What?”
“On your wrist.”
He glances at his hand. “Nothing.”
“Did you get a new tattoo?”
No response.
My pulse picks up, that gut instinct surging to life. “What is it, Shepherd? What is that tattoo?”
“God, Rowan, just leave me alone. Please.”
