Chapter 2 - The Bandage)
Daniel brought the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom.
Claire sat on a kitchen chair with her injured leg stretched awkwardly onto another chair.
Her ankle was swelling.
Margaret stood by the window checking the driveway for caterers.
"Does it look broken?" Claire asked.
Daniel pressed lightly along her shin.
Pain shot upward.
Claire jerked away.
"Stop doing that."
"I'm checking."
"You don't know what you're checking."
"It's probably soft tissue."
"You work in commercial insurance."
"I played football."
Claire stared at him.
Margaret spoke without turning around.
"Men understand injuries better than you think."
Claire closed her eyes.
She was beginning to feel sick.
Not from the leg.
From the pressure.
From the growing realization that both of them considered her pain something to manage privately rather than a problem requiring care.
Daniel wrapped gauze around the lower part of her leg.
Too much gauze.
Layer after layer until it became a thick white bandage.
Claire looked at it.
"Why are you wrapping my entire lower leg?"
"Compression."
"That isn't how compression works."
"Would you rather I do nothing?"
"I would rather you drive me to the hospital."
Margaret finally turned.
"For heaven's sake."
Claire stared at her.
"What?"
"Do you know what people will think if you disappear to the emergency room an hour before the party?"
Claire blinked.
"They'll probably think I injured my leg."
"You fell."
"Yes."
"In your own home."
"Yes."
"People talk."
Claire almost smiled.
"What exactly is the scandal?"
Margaret lowered her voice.
"You've been complaining about being tired for weeks. You told Susan last Sunday you felt unsupported."
"I said I was tired."
"You said Daniel was working late."
"He was."
"You make little comments."
Claire looked at Daniel.
He avoided her eyes.
The truth settled slowly.
Margaret was not merely worried Claire would miss the party.
She was worried Claire might say something.
Anything.
Something honest.
Claire reached toward Daniel's pocket.
"Phone."
He stepped backward.
"Claire."
"Phone."
"Calm down."
"I am calm."
"You're not acting calm."
Her heart began pounding.
"Because you took my phone."
The doorbell rang.
Margaret straightened instantly.
Her face transformed.
Cold irritation vanished.
Warm hostess appeared.
"That's the caterer."
She walked away as though the previous conversation had never happened.
Claire watched her greet two workers with bright Christmas cheer.
Daniel crouched beside Claire again.
"You need to stop."
"Give me my phone."
"After the party."
Claire stared at him.
Something inside her cracked.
"After the party?"
"Yes."
"Six hours from now?"
"You have everything you need here."
"I need medical care."
"I'll keep an eye on it."
"I'm pregnant."
"And the baby's fine."
"You don't know that."
"You didn't hit your stomach."
"Daniel."
His expression sharpened.
"Lower your voice."
Claire heard the caterers moving through the dining room.
Metal trays clinked.
Margaret laughed.
The party was coming alive around her.
Claire realized she had a choice.
She could scream.
She could create the scene Margaret feared.
For one second, Claire almost did it.
Then Daniel leaned close.
"If you humiliate my mother tonight, don't expect her to help us after the baby comes."
Claire stared at him.
Margaret had promised to help with childcare.
Daniel had used that promise repeatedly when Claire worried about returning to work.
Claire suddenly understood how many promises in her life had invisible conditions attached.
Be agreeable.
Be grateful.
Be quiet.
She pushed herself up.
Pain tore through her leg.
"I need the bathroom."
Daniel grabbed her arm.
"I'll help."
"Don't touch me."
"You're going to fall."
"I said don't."
She used the counter for support.
Each step hurt.
She made it halfway across the kitchen before her injured leg buckled.
Her hand caught a glass bowl.
It crashed onto the floor.
Margaret rushed in.
"Claire!"
Not Are you okay.
Claire.
The name itself sounded like an accusation.
Claire gripped the counter.
"I can't walk."
One of the caterers looked over.
Daniel immediately smiled.
"She's fine. Just twisted her ankle."
Claire looked at the woman.
Their eyes met.
For a second, Claire considered saying help me.
Then Margaret moved between them.
"Could you finish setting up the desserts?"
The caterer nodded reluctantly and left.
Daniel whispered, "See what you're doing?"
Claire looked at him.
"What I'm doing?"
"Everyone is watching."
"Good."
He stared.
Claire repeated it.
"Good."
Margaret's face changed.
There it was.
Fear.
Not fear for Claire.
Fear of being exposed.
Daniel saw it too.
He lowered his voice.
"You're going upstairs."
"No."
"You need rest."
"I am not going anywhere with you."
Margaret looked toward the dining room.
Guests would begin arriving soon.
Then she looked toward the garage.
Claire followed her gaze.
The garage.
Cold.
Separate.
Hidden.
Claire knew what Margaret was thinking before she spoke.
"There is a padded patio chair in the garage."
Claire stared at her.
Margaret continued quickly.
"Just until she settles down."
Daniel hesitated.
"Mom."
"People don't need to see this."
"This?" Claire asked.
Margaret gestured toward her.
The bandage.
The pregnancy.
The anger.
The inconvenience of Claire existing imperfectly during Margaret's perfect party.
Claire's throat tightened.
"You want to put me in the garage."
"Only until you feel better."
"I'll feel better at the hospital."
Margaret ignored her.
"We can make you comfortable."
Daniel glanced toward the front windows.
The first headlights were appearing in the driveway.
His decision took less than three seconds.
"Okay."
Claire looked at her husband.
"Daniel."
He would not meet her eyes.
"Just for a little while."
That was the moment Claire knew something had gone terribly wrong.
May you like
Not with her leg.
With her marriage.
