“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because you’re barefoot.”
She looked down.
“Oh.”
I finished sweeping.
Then I sat on the floor opposite her.
Between us, the refrigerator light reflected off the wooden cabinets.
Karen looked at me.
“I feel stupid.”
“For what?”
“For not knowing.”
“You trusted your husband.”
“Exactly.”
“Is that supposed to be stupid?”
“When the trust is misplaced.”
“No.”
I leaned back against a cabinet.
“The person who lies is responsible for the lie. Not the person who believed them.”
She stared at me for a long time.
Then tears rolled down her cheeks.
This time, she didn’t hide them.
I moved closer.
Slowly enough that she could stop me.
She didn’t.
Karen leaned into me.
I put an arm around her shoulders.
That was all.
For nearly twenty minutes, that was all.
She cried silently against my chest.
I held her.
Nothing romantic.
