Before I could say anything else, a plate slipped from the edge of the counter.
It struck the floor and shattered beside Hannah’s bare feet.
She flinched violently.
I heard the pieces scatter across the tile.
From the couch, my mother called out without even turning her head.
“Clean that up before somebody gets hurt.”
The television continued blaring.
Darlene had heard the plate break. She knew Hannah was standing barefoot beside the sink. She knew there were sharp pieces scattered across the floor.
And she’d stayed seated.
Something in me went still.
Not quiet. Not calm.
Still, in the way a door becomes still after it has finally closed.
I took Hannah gently by the arm.
“Don’t move.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered automatically.
I turned toward her.
“Don’t apologize.”
I guided her away from the broken plate and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. She sat down slowly, one hand supporting the underside of her belly.
I brought her a glass of water and waited until she’d taken several sips. Then I crouched beside her.
“Are you dizzy? Does anything hurt?”
“My back hurts,” she admitted. “But it has been hurting all day.”
I felt my jaw tighten, but I kept my voice gentle.
“You’re going to sit here. You’re not cleaning another thing tonight.”
She nodded, though I could tell she wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed to stop.
I stood, walked into the living room, and switched off the television.
The sudden silence seemed to shrink the entire apartment.
Brooke lowered her phone. Tessa looked up from her screen. Erin turned away from the empty pizza boxes, and my mother finally pushed the blanket off her legs enough to sit upright.
“What are you doing?” Darlene demanded.
I looked at all four of them.
For four months, I’d been trying to keep everyone comfortable. I’d worked longer hours, paid bills without asking questions, and swallowed my frustration whenever another week passed without anyone making arrangements to leave.
I’d convinced myself that patience was the same thing as being a good son and brother.
Now I understood that my patience had come at Hannah’s expense.
“Everybody needs to listen to me,” I said.
My voice sounded strange in the room. Not because I was shouting. I wasn’t.
It was because I had finally stopped asking myself whether they might be offended by what I needed to say.
“I’ve been paying for everything in this apartment. The rent, the electricity, the groceries, Mom’s medication, the phone bills, and the food you ordered tonight. I’ve been taking extra shifts and skipping lunch breaks to make sure we can cover it all.”
Brooke shifted on the couch.
Tessa rolled her eyes, but she didn’t interrupt.
“And while I’ve been doing that, Hannah has been cleaning up after you. She’s eight months pregnant. She’s exhausted. She’s in pain, and she’s been crying because of the way you treat her.”
“Marcus, don’t exaggerate,” Darlene said.
I turned toward her.
“She told me what you’ve been saying to her for almost two months.”
My mother drew herself up.
“I was trying to teach her some responsibility. When I was pregnant with you, I worked. I cooked. I cleaned. I didn’t sit around expecting everyone to wait on me.”
“She’s not asking anyone to wait on her.”
“Then why is everyone supposed to tiptoe around her?”
“Nobody is asking you to tiptoe around her, Mom. We’re asking you to treat her like a human being.”
Darlene’s mouth tightened.
Tessa gave a dismissive laugh.
“Being pregnant doesn’t mean she can’t do anything.”
I looked at my sister.
“She’s been doing everything. That’s the problem.”
For once, Tessa had nothing ready to say.