“Your wife is clueless, huh? She actually buys this whole ‘surprise dinner’ thing?”
Eric shot to his feet, chair scraping, wine spilling across the table runner.
“Turn it off! Turn it off right now, Coraline!”
I didn’t. I let the video finish.
When it ended, I turned to him with a calm I’d earned the hard way.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Eric.”
He stammered.
“Cora, it’s not what it looks like—”
Doris rose, cheeks flushed.
“It looks exactly like what it looks like,” she said tightly. “You’re an embarrassment to me, Eric.”
Walter stared at the dark TV, then at his son.
“You brought another woman into your wife’s kitchen and think you can talk your way out of it?”
Chad’s fists were clenched.
“You really thought you’d just smile, carve a turkey, and your cheating would disappear?”
Eric tried one last line.
“This is my house. I cooked this whole dinner.”
“No,” I said. “This house is mine. My parents helped me buy it before we got married. Your name isn’t on the deed.”
He opened his mouth, but there was nowhere left to go.
“You’re leaving tonight,” I said. “Didn’t your mistress take the second turkey for your private dinner? You can enjoy it somewhere else.”
Walter pointed to the door.
“Get out.”
Eric looked around for support. There was none.
Finally, he grabbed his coat and walked out. Chad opened the door for him and didn’t bother to hide the disgust on his face.
The door clicked shut. The room exhaled.
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