I grabbed my briefcase and my lunch bag from the counter.
“I am leaving now,” I said, standing by the back door.
“Have a good day,” she said from the sink.
She did not walk over to kiss me goodbye.
She did not even turn her head.
I stepped out into the crisp autumn air, the dry leaves crunching under my dress shoes.
The drive to the office was quiet.
I turned off the radio, unable to focus on the news.
I kept thinking about the look on her face when I mentioned the corporate portfolio.
I had only been stating the obvious.
The boutique design firm she wanted to join was small, operating out of a renovated garage downtown.
They did logo designs for local bakeries and wedding invitations.
My job at the consulting firm paid for our three-bedroom house, the SUV, and Leo’s preschool.
I was the one carrying the real weight of this family.
It was only practical to point out that her little project was not a real career.
By the time I parked in the company garage, I felt a familiar surge of defensiveness.
