Spencer’s face lost its color.
He suddenly became much more polite.
“Officer, I think everyone is overreacting. My wife and I have been under stress.”
The officer looked at him.
“Stress doesn’t explain what happened. We’ll need to establish the facts.”
Spencer glanced at me.
“Hannah, please. Let’s go home and discuss this privately.”
I almost laughed.
For two years, he had insisted that our problems remain private.
He used that word whenever he wanted to avoid accountability.
Private meant I couldn’t tell my friends how he spoke to me.
Private meant I couldn’t question his mother’s insults.
Private meant I had to endure his behavior and protect his reputation.
But his actions had happened in a crowded restaurant.
Dozens of people had witnessed them.
There was nothing private about the humiliation he had intended for me.
“I have nothing to discuss with you tonight,” I replied.
The officer continued gathering statements.
