“And you can give away my car without talking to me?” I countered. Harrison didn’t answer.
Monica continued photographing the dining room and then asked to see the master bedroom. Harrison glared at her, but she only raised her eyebrows politely.
“I will continue when I am told,” Monica said. “Continue,” I told her.
That’s what really threw Harrison off, because he was used to my attempts at negotiation or my sad silences. Alejandro was used to me keeping the peace for the children, but that afternoon I wasn’t arguing; I was taking action.
When Monica left, Harrison closed the door harder than necessary and told me I had lost my mind over a car. I told him it wasn’t about the car, and when he asked why, I looked at him for a few seconds.
We had been married for eleven years and I had been there through every business dinner, funeral, and sleepless night. I had held up his schedule and his image as a decisive man, yet he still saw me as someone who didn’t contribute.
“Because you’ve made it clear to me what my value is to you,” I explained. Harrison ran a hand through his hair and began pacing around the room.