I assumed the empty lunchbox meant exactly what any wife would assume.
My husband ate the lunch I packed.
Then, one Tuesday morning, everything changed.
Jamie was ten.
He wandered into the kitchen still wearing pajamas while I was making Edward’s sandwiches.
He watched me quietly for a moment.
Then said,
“Mom, maybe don’t make Dad lunch today.”
I laughed.
“Why?”
He frowned like I had asked an obvious question.
“Because he throws it away by the corner anyway.”
I put down the knife.
“What?”
“Our school bus stopped there yesterday.”
Jamie leaned against the counter.
“I saw Dad leave your food next to the trash.”
My stomach tightened.
Then he added casually,
“And he changed into his wedding suit and got into a lady’s car.”
I stared at him.
“Jamie, go get dressed for school.”
He shrugged.
“Okay.”
And walked away.
I stood alone in the kitchen.
