“No.”
The honest no cost her and she paid it. She muted the television. The score changed without sound. She put the phone face-down on the nacho plate and then picked it up again because a phone was not a wing. Cole sat on the couch, not the floor, which was a promotion he did not want. They listened to the truck start. The truck was Rick’s. The mortgage was both of theirs. The bedroom wall in the photo was the wall behind the bed Cole was not allowed to jump on. Lisa knew the wall. She had held the roller. The woman in the thread had stood in front of it in Rick’s shirt while Lisa was supposed to be at her sister’s until the fourth quarter.
Her sister, Pam, was in fact at a school concert with her own kids and had texted an hour ago: still on the flute, send help. Lisa had not gone. She had stayed home because Cole had a cold and because the game was the Sunday plan. The thread thought she had gone. Rick had told someone a lie that used Pam as cover. Pam was going to be angry about being used as cover. Lisa would let her be angry later. Later was after the truck noise died.
She read enough to know a first name. Heather. A time. This morning, while Cole was at the early soccer practice Rick was supposed to have driven and had said he drove. He had driven. He had also stopped. The stop was the shirt. Lisa closed the thread. She did not delete it. Deleting was what he had wanted. She wanted the record. Cole asked if he could have the rest of the wings. She said yes. He ate one and did not taste it. The television showed a replay of the score nobody in the room had cheered.