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“The embarrassment.”
My chest tightened. “Not the sex?”
“Oh, that hurt.” She nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. Knowing your husband has touched someone else will make you want to peel your own skin off for a minute.”
I looked at her confused. “But embarrassment?”
“Baby, embarrassment is different.” She stared toward the window. “Because now you’re wondering who knew and who saw something?”
Her fingers moved around the stem of the glass. “You wonder who watched you stand next to him smiling while knowing that man had been somewhere else?”
I stayed quiet.
“And the women…” She shook her head. “That was another kind of hurt.”
“What about them?”
“Some knew exactly who I was.” She looked at me. “They knew he had a wife. Some had seen me before. Some knew we had children, knew where he lived, and knew our family.”
She laughed softly. “And that shit will make you question women in a way that isn't healthy because you start thinking, How could another woman do that to me?”
My eyes burned.
“But what I learned eventually is that marriages are complicated.” She leaned forward. “A man can walk out after one bad argument and tell another woman he’s done. He can act like he’s ready to sign papers. Women will think that the wife doesn’t understand him, or support him, and that he’s been miserable for years.”
Mama rolled her eyes. “Then that same motherfucker will come home, take a shower, climb into bed and fuck his wife like he didn’t just hold an exit interview about their marriage with another woman.”
My mouth fell open. “Mama!”
“What?”
I started laughing. “Why did you have to say it like that?”
“Because that’s the truth.”
She smiled. “Marriage can be rough on Tuesday and peaceful by Thursday. That’s why outsiders rarely know the whole truth. You can have an ugly argument, say shit you regret, go to sleep angry, and wake up still mad.”
She shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean the marriage is over.”
I nodded.
“And men, women too, but men especially… sometimes tell whatever version of the marriage gives them permission to do what they already want to do.”
I looked down. “Yeah.”
“You know that now.”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
Mama reached across the counter.
“I became the woman who hurt you.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Mama frowned. “What?”
I looked at her. “When Daddy cheated. I spent my whole childhood saying I would never be like you.”
