He handed me a box without looking.
“Come on, if you’re going to be here, you need to work.”
I didn’t have the energy to fight.
And what did Briggs do?
That day, we hit four stops in five hours. I’d been running on fumes, but I didn’t say a word.
Not until we got back to the car.
“I need to eat, babe,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Please. I haven’t eaten all day.”
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“You’re always eating,” he muttered. “Isn’t that what you did last night? Cleaned out the pantry? That’s the cycle, isn’t it? I work my butt off to stock up the pantry, and you eat it all away in a night.”
“Please. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m carrying two babies,” I said. “And I haven’t had anything since dinner.”
“You ate a banana,” Briggs said, rolling his eyes. “Stop acting like a drama queen. You’re pregnant. That doesn’t make you special.”
I looked out the window, blinking hard. My hands were shaking.
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“Can we just stop somewhere?” I asked again. “I feel dizzy.”
“You’re pregnant. That doesn’t make you special.”
He sighed, like I’d asked for something extravagant. Eventually, he pulled into a roadside diner — the kind with foggy windows, laminated menus, and booths that stuck to your legs in summer.
I didn’t care.
My legs ached, my stomach turned, and I just needed to sit down and stay upright.
I slid into a booth and tried to catch my breath.
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I didn’t care.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and pictured what I wanted more than anything: Mia and Maya, asleep in matching onesies, their tiny bellies rising and falling. Their names had started whispering to me lately.
Maybe because they sounded soft… or maybe because they sounded like freedom.
A waitress came over — she was in her forties, maybe, with a tired smile and a bun that was half undone. Her name tag read Dottie.
I closed my eyes and pictured what I wanted more than anything.
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Before she could say anything, Briggs grunted.
“Something cheap, Rae.”
I didn’t react to him. I just opened the menu and scanned for protein, finally deciding on a Cobb salad. It was $5. That was it.
Surely, Briggs wouldn’t have an issue with that?
“I’ll have the Cobb salad, please, Dottie,” I said quietly.
Surely, Briggs wouldn’t have an issue with that?
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“A salad?” Briggs said, barking a loud laugh. “It must be nice, huh, Rae? Spending money that you didn’t earn.”
I stared at the table, cheeks flushing.
“It’s just $5,” I said, trying to stay calm for the babies. “I need to eat. The babies need me to eat for them.”
“Five dollars adds up,” he muttered. “Especially when you’re not the one working.”
“It must be nice, huh, Rae? Spending money that you didn’t earn.”
A table nearby went quiet. A gray-haired couple in the next booth looked over. The woman’s mouth tightened like she’d swallowed something bitter.
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“You want some crackers while you wait, sweetheart?” Dottie asked, her voice low and kind.
“I’m okay,” I said, shaking my head. “Thank you.”
A table nearby went quiet.
“No, honey. You’re shaking. That happens to me when my blood sugar levels are low. You need to eat.”
She left before I could argue. I pressed my hand to my belly, imagining the babies hearing everything. I wished I could shield them from the world. I wished I could keep them from ever hearing their father’s taunts.
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I wished I could do better… for them.
When Dottie came back, she set down a glass of iced tea and a little bowl of crackers on a napkin.
“No, honey. You’re shaking.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Is everyone in this town trying to be a hero today?” Briggs said.
Dottie didn’t break stride. She just looked straight at him and raised her eyebrows.
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“I’m not trying to be anything. I’m just being a woman who’s reaching out to someone who’s struggling.”
When the salad came, there was grilled chicken on top. I hadn’t asked for it.
Dottie didn’t break stride.
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