When my husband h:it me, my parents saw the b:ruise — said nothing, and walked away. He smirked from his chair, beer in hand: “Polite little family you’ve got.”

little family you’ve got,” he said.

My father still wouldn’t meet my eyes. He grabbed my mother’s coat from the armchair — the same chair where Grant had tossed it earlier like garbage.

“Be patient, Clara,” he muttered. “Marriage is difficult.”

The door shut behind them.

For a few seconds, the only sounds left in the house were the fizz of Grant’s beer continue reading …