Evelyn heard a car pull into the driveway. She dropped a glass into the sink. Water and soapsuds splashed on her apron as panic infected her hands with clumsiness. She looked over the counter into the dinette area and shook her head, flinched, then closed her eyes as she imagined what would happen next. She felt a tremor in her right cheek, the one that he’d hit the last time they got into an argument. Please, don’t be drunk.
Evelyn took a deep breath and turned to the right to pull open the dishwasher door. She slid out the top tray. It was full of clean glasses and coffee mugs. She slumped as she looked at the full tray, and then glanced at the sink full of just as many dirty glasses and mugs. So much for hiding the evidence. Gotta get those out at least before he sees them. She pulled out one glass or mug after another at a fevered pace, rattling and clanking them together. As she placed two coffee mugs in the cabinet above the dishwasher, the front door creaked, and the screen door slammed behind it.
Too late.
She tensed her muscles and looked toward the entrance of the dining area, which led to the front entryway, as she anticipated something unpleasant headed in her direction. She paused a moment then resumed her duties, glancing back toward the entrance over and over again, growing more nervous by the second.
The tray had several more glasses to go before she could empty the sink.
The sliding glass back door was open, screen shut. Laughter and playful chatter from her two youngest girls drifted in from the backyard. Thankfully, her two oldest, an 11-year-old, Alice, and 15-year-old Max, Jr., were in their rooms studying.
“Wha’s goin’ on here!” Max Sr. yelled through slurred words. He stumbled into the dining area, almost falling as he passed under the arch of the entrance, forcing him to reach up to steady himself with the wall, which happened to have a family photo hanging on it. His clumsy, thick, grasping fingers knocked the picture to the ground. The glass covering the photo shattered, cutting his face’s image in the process. “Darn it!” he said even louder as if it were the picture’s fault.
Evelyn kept putting away dishes, even more quickly now, as if her busyness would postpone the inevitable for at least a few more minutes. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the bowls on the table or the dishes in the sink. She said nothing, just kept removing dish after dish from the washer, placing each in its place in the cabinets.
He regained at least some of his equilibrium then walked gingerly around the counter toward her. She closed her eyes as she kept working, praying silently as she did. Before he closed the distance between them, a wicked thought grabbed her spirit. If God exists, he wouldn’t let men like Max beat their wives. He grabbed her left arm just above the elbow and spun her toward him, which caused a glass she had just removed from the sink to fly across the cabinet and fall onto the floor, shattering into dozens of pieces. “I asked you a question, woman. Wa’sss going on around here when I’m gone?”
