“Maureen. Is Kevin good to her?”
“He pays the mortgage.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“My husband isn’t cruel,” I said, and hated how much I needed the sentence to be true. “He’s just tired. Sarah’s quiet. They rub each other the wrong way.”
“Okay,” Lola didn’t push. She never did. “If that ever changes, you know how to contact me.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“My dad left something for my daughter, you know, for college. Kevin manages it, too. And it’s fine.”
“I’m sure it is.”
My co-worker said it the way I’d said, “Kevin’s a good provider.”
Two women pretending together.
***
The truth is, I love my daughter more than life itself. I love my husband, too.
