from him. But whatever it was, she couldn't stop it. She didn't get back to the table until dessert, and poor little Annabelle looked quiet and sad when she saw her mother.
“Do you feel better, Mommy?” she asked in a small voice, with big, unhappy eyes. “I'm sorry you're sick.” Maybe he was right. Maybe they all felt responsible. Maybe she was making everyone miserable. Maybe it would be better if she died. She didn't know what to think anymore, or what had happened to him. He was a complete stranger, everything he had ever meant to her, all the gentleness and love he had shown her for years, had totally vanished.
“I'm okay, sweetheart. I feel better now,” she said to Annabelle, and ignored Sam. And after dinner, Annabelle lay on the couch with her, and Alex told her stories. She let Sam do all the cleaning up, and he looked furious when he was finished. Annabelle had just gone to her room to get a video, when he came out of the kitchen and saw Alex.
“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving,” he said sarcastically, “remind me to go somewhere else next year.”
“Be my guest.” He hadn't said a word to thank her for all the work she'd done, or all the effort.
“You had to ruin it for her, didn't you? You couldn't even sit there for an hour, just so she'd be sure to know how sick you are.”
“When did you turn into a complete prick, Sam?” Alex asked casually, as she looked up at him. “You know, I never realized what a miserable human being you were before. I guess I was too busy.”
“Maybe we both were,” he muttered, and stalked into the study to watch football. He'd had other Thanksgivings like this before. Years when his mother had been too sick even to come out of her room, or cook a turkey. His father usually got drunk. And once he was at school, he hadn't even bothered to come home for Thanksgiving. The holidays meant a lot to him, and it meant a lot to him to have Alex make the effort. She always had before. But now, she was just like his mother, and all it did was make him hate her.
After the football game, he went out alone that afternoon. He went for a long walk in the park, by himself, and when he came back, they ate leftovers, and Alex seemed to be in better spirits. Having ruined their Thanksgiving meal, she was free to perk up now, and feel better. Or at least that was his perception of it.
Annabelle still seemed subdued, and she had asked her mother why she and Daddy shouted all the time, and why they were angry at each other. Alex told her it didn't mean anything, grown-ups just did that sometimes. But Annabelle still looked worried.
Sam put Annabelle to bed himself that night, and made a point of saying to Alex that she was probably too sick to do it, and remembering what Annabelle had said about their arguing, Alex said nothing to him.
She went to their room, after kissing Annabelle good night, and lay on her bed, thinking of how miserable their life was. How bitter it all had become. It was hard to believe things would ever get any better.
And she surprised Sam with what she said when he came back from putting Annabelle to bed. Alex looked over at him with a look of resignation. Maybe she had to finally accept it, that things were never going to be the same again, and it was all over.
“You don't have to be here, you know. I'm not holding you hostage.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” He looked more than a little startled, and she suddenly wondered if he'd been waiting for this. Maybe he just didn't have the guts to tell her he wanted out, and he had been waiting for her to end it. He seemed to be looking for excuses lately to hate her.
“It means that you seem to be pretty unhappy these days, and you don't seem to want to be here. Anytime you want out, Sam, the door is open.” They were the hardest words she'd ever said, but she knew they needed saying. And after all she'd been through in the past two months, nothing was as hard as it had once been. She was fighting for her life. And her marriage.
“Are you telling me to get out?” he asked, almost hopefully, she