After My Miscarriage, My Husband Locked Me Out novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Roz's Table

Roz's family ate dinner loudly and all at once.

Her husband carried the lasagna in from the oven with his bare hands and swore about it.

Her sixteen-year-old daughter took the corner piece before anyone else and dared us with her eyes.

I sat on the end of the table with a fork I could not seem to use.

"Eat," Roz said. "You're gray."

"I'm eating."

"You're pushing it toward the other side of the plate."

"That's called a strategy."

Her daughter snorted into her milk, and for one second the knot under my ribs let go.

Roz's husband pointed his serving spoon at me.

"Sleep on the couch as long as you want. It pulls out. It has a bar across the middle, so you'll wake up with a spine like a question mark, but it pulls out."

"I can't live on your couch forever."

"Nobody said forever," Roz said. "I said until you stop looking like that."

I put my fork down.

"Can he really keep the house?" I asked.

The table went quiet.

Roz's husband had been a paralegal for twenty years before his back gave out. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and did not lie to me.

"If his name is on the deed, he has a claim to half. If you refuse to sign, he'd have to file for divorce, and that takes months."

"I bought it before we married," I said. "Chandler told me he'd have his name added after the wedding. I never checked that he did."

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