I pointed at the soaking magazine, a wet Michelle staring up, still too pretty.
She picked up the magazine. Confused. “She works at People?”
I closed my eyes tightly, ignoring her.
“What was Ben thinking, showing up with her here? You know what? Back up. Bobby didn’t say a word about this, so I assume you haven’t known for long. When did you find out?” Her eyes got wide. “Did you just find out?”
“Margaret, I just need a minute alone.”
“No way.” She shook her head. “The twins are taking their nap. We’re talking.”
I pulled myself up, pissed. “You want to talk, let’s talk. But you go first, Margaret.”
I was silent, watching Margaret’s face, Margaret letting it sink in that I knew about her and Finn. At least I knew there was something I shouldn’t know.
Her voice got incredibly quiet. “Finn told you?”
She shook her head. Like that was the betrayal here.
“It’s not what you think,” Margaret said. “Between me and your brother.”
“Which one?” I said.
She drilled me with a look. “You trying to be cute?”
“I’m trying to take a bath, but apparently that isn’t happening.” I pointed at the sink. “Can you hand me a towel?”
She shook her head. Then she reached over, grabbing the towel, putting it on the bathtub’s edge, but too deep in, the towel falling into the soapy water. “Finn. Between me and Finn.”
“Do you realize how wrong that is? That you even have to specify that?”
“I could do without the judgment, okay?” She paused. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t.”
“So who did?”
She looked at me. “Bobby.”
I closed my eyes. “Margaret, if you’re about to tell me that my brother cheated on you, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”
“No, but there are a lot of ways to disappear on somebody.”
“What was his?”
“I don’t know . . .” Margaret shrugged, not wanting to say it. I was angry, but then I could see why. I could see why she was hesitating. As soon as she started talking, she began to cry.
I put my hand on top of hers. “What happened?”
“Our marriage. Getting married young. The miscarriage young. And then we decide to wait to have a child. Bobby wants to wait and we wait too long.”
I squeezed her hand, remembering it all too well: Margaret losing the baby five months into the pregnancy. She was devastated, only pulling out after the wedding, only pulling out when they were entrenched in their life together.
“We spent years trying to have the twins. All those fertility treatments. And I was the one who wanted that, but he wanted them too. Then they arrive. And what does he do?”
“He’s not helpful?”
She wiped at her tears, but they kept coming, the towel I’d left on the sink now her handkerchief. “He is helpful. He was absolutely amazing with the twins. Matching me feeding for feeding. Diaper change for diaper change.”
“I’m not sure how that means he disappeared,” I said.