On Halloween, My Husband Kissed Another Woman in Front of Our Daughter, So We Left novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The Pickup Line

By Monday morning the post had forty-one replies.

Praying for you, Mona.

Some people have no heart.

Can I drop off dinner?

Nobody had used my name.

Everybody knew whose name it was.

I read all of it in my sister's kitchen while Junie put on her boots.

"Mommy, why are you making that face?"

"I'm not making a face."

"You are. It's your hem face."

I put the phone in my pocket.

At pickup that afternoon I stood in the line of parked cars with my arms folded.

The mothers I had hemmed prom dresses and altered wedding gowns for did not look at me.

One of them, who always waved, turned to rearrange her bag.

Then a woman I barely knew stepped away from the group and said, loudly enough for the line to hear, "I just think it's sad, taking a child away from her father when a sick woman needs help."

Everyone near us went quiet.

I looked at Junie's classroom door, still closed.

I had spent four days being careful.

I took out the folded drawing from my coat pocket, because Junie had given it to me to keep safe.

"I'd like to show you something," I said.

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