“You’ve been using this place to control me from the beginning,” Michael said.
“When?”
“You always remind me it’s yours.”
“I almost never mention it.”
“You don’t have to. I know.”
“So the existence of the deed hurts your feelings?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then explain it.”
“You’re never here anymore.”
“I work.”
“So do I.”
“Yes.”
“You come home exhausted. We eat takeout. You answer emails at night. You barely talk to me.”
For once, he said something that sounded almost reasonable.
“If you were unhappy in our marriage, you could have talked to me.”
“I tried.”
“No. You complained.”
“That’s the same thing to you.”
“And when complaining didn’t work, you packed my belongings?”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“What does that mean?”
Linda stepped forward.
“It means Michael needed space.”
“You’re wearing my robe.”
“It was hanging in the bathroom.”
