" No you don't. Until you feel worse than me you won't feel bad enough. I say these things because I keep hearing them over and over in my head."Marci...asked, "So where do we go from here? Are you going to ask for a divorce? I guess I can't blame you if you do."I said, "I don't know yet. Half of my brain is screaming at me to throw you out of the house right now and be done with you forever, but the other half is tell me to go slowly and don't do anything I'll regret later. For now I won't do. ’ she spat. ‘Whose baby is that?’ he demanded, his voice low and deadly and she looked at him in shock and disbelief. Was he actually questioning her because of a letter? She would not dignify his insulting question with an answer. She turned away from him and he grabbed her arm. ‘You better fucking answer me Jezebel.’ ‘Let go.’ she said her anger really growing. She had tried to be some what civil, but now she was just plain pissed off. ‘I can’t believe you would fall for this shit,’ she shook. She wouldn't talk to him at all, except to give him a sharp "leave me alone," when he tried to cheer her up. And during the week it was little better. The housework went undone for the most part. She seemed to have no interest at all in making a home for them any more. He suspected that she was spending her time with Lucia, the daylight hours that she had to herself. He'd asked her about it several times, and had gotten nothing but an enigmatic smile for an answer.And sex, or rather the absence. We rolled to our backs, exhausted. I reached under the covers and caressed my mother's belly. She covered my hand with hers but continued staring at the ceiling. The lights came up in the plane. The flight attendant announced we were descending for a landing. I watched as mom buttoned her dress. Her expression was unreadable. She folded the blanket and laid it on the floor. “Wake your father. But first, what you did…what we did is very wrong.” “You didn’t like it?” She paused and looked me deep.