Page 34 of The Housekeeper


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It was all I could do to keep from screaming. “It’s because of my income that we’re able to afford this house and send the kids to daycare and day camp, giving you all day to write,” I said, struggling to regain control, my voice low and as gravelly as an unpaved road.

“Which you obviously resent,” he said.

“I don’t resent it at all. What Idoresent is your refusal to acknowledge how much I contribute.”

“So you’re doing all this for us? Is that what you’re saying? You don’t enjoy your job? You don’t get any personal satisfaction out of it?”

“Of course I enjoy it. You’re twisting everything I’m saying.”

“It’s because of you that we’re able to afford our comfortable lifestyle. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, but…”

“I contribute nothing.”

“Idefinitelydid not say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You started this,” I reminded him. “I wasn’t the one complaining.”

“No,” he said. “It’s never you, is it? You’re blameless.”

“I never said I was blameless. What the hell is going on here?” I cried in frustration. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Mommy!” a little voice called from the doorway.

I turned to see Daphne, clutching her stuffed bunny rabbit by one long droopy ear, her eyes shifting rapidly between Harrison and me. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Did we wake you up?”

Her eyes settled on Harrison. “You made Mommy cry!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I told her. “Everything’s okay.”

“Nice work,” I heard Harrison say as I led Daphne from the room.

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