Shit, I know I screwed up. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d freaked and gone off the deep end when she found out; I was ready for flying crockery, tears, a slap around the face. After months lying awake worrying about it, I was almost looking forward to having it out in the open. She’d yell, I’d apologize, hopefully she’d get over it, and that would be that. But no. She had to be so fucking superior and disappointed. I cling onto the strap as the subway rattles round a sharp corner. Must be nice and sunny up there on the moral high ground. Where the fuck does Clare get off? Telling me I can’t “handle” my job. Banning me from seeing Hamish and the boys. Christ! Who does she think she is, grounding me like a fucking eight-year-old? Felix is right. I am pussy-whipped. When I was a kid, Mom took charge of all the household stuff. She picked out curtains and decided if we could afford a new sofa. She was the one who yelled three ways to Sunday if any of us came home with bad grades, not Dad.
What do You think about Who Loves You Best (2010)?
