I stood outside her door, attempting to coax her out, first with words and then with bribes. I brought home the things she loved: éclairs, maple candies, a brand new pair of tennis shoes. It was pathetic, this groveling, but I didn’t know what else to do. And nothing worked; she just wouldn’t take the bait. The éclairs grew stale in the fridge, the candies melted on the windowsill. The sneakers sat wrapped in tissue inside their box on the kitchen table. By Friday morning, I’d basically given up. I figured she couldn’t keep this up forever. I found myself grateful for Maggie’s company. At least she was still talking to me. “I mended that rag you been wearing to work,” Maggie said, handing me my favorite work shirt, which I’d worn threadbare at the elbows. “Looks like you ain’t been shopping in a while,” she said. Hanna had always brought things back for me when she went shopping for Paul. I made her give me the receipts and wrote her checks to cover what she’d spent.
