Hal said. Maureen did not look up from the Home and Garden section of the Saturday paper. “Fine,” she said coldly. It was the first word she’d spoken to him since they’d got home the night before. He tried to swallow his anger, but it stuck in his throat like a fish bone. “I’ll try to get away by lunchtime,” he said. “Fine,” she said again. She turned the page of the newspaper, snapped it straight, then picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. “But I can’t promise,” Hal said. She banged the mug down and glared at him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Hal, will you just shut the fuck up.” “Well, I’m sorry,” he said. Even after twenty-five years of marriage, her language shocked him. “I still have to go to the office.” “No, you don’t,” she said. “You’re just looking for an excuse to avoid going to the homecoming. I’m not sure why. Until a couple of weeks ago, you seemed to be looking forward to it. Or is it that you just don’t want to spend the day with me?”
