Tell her everything

You take a long drink, set the glass down, and decide there’s no point holding any of it back.

“My wife has been freezing me out for six months,” you start. “Every time I tried she had an excuse. Sore. Tired. Not in the mood. I thought it was me. Too big for her. Too pushy. Something I’d done wrong. This morning I found out she’s pregnant and the dates don’t work with me. Tanya, the woman you just saw, is her sister. She’s known for weeks. She finally told me the truth today. There are three possible fathers. Two teachers from the school where Natasha works, Paul and Matthew, who she’s been seeing regularly. And a governor called Jamie. She’s been fucking other men while telling me she couldn’t stand being touched. And her sister sat on the whole thing because Natasha asked her to.”

The words come out flatter than the anger underneath them. You keep going, laying out the cold mornings, the rejected advances, the way Natasha had watched you finish the night before and still kept the larger secret locked away. Alice listens without interrupting, her expression steady and focused, the same sharp attention she always brought to anything that mattered. Around you the quiet bar continues its low afternoon rhythm. None of it touches the mess you have just put on the table between the two of you.

When you finally stop talking the silence that follows is heavy but not uncomfortable. Alice turns her glass slowly in her hands, processing, then looks up at you with clear eyes.

“That’s a lot to carry,” she says. “No wonder you looked like you’d been hit by a truck.”