I'd gone to that used car lot to look for a second car. We could afford a brand new one, it was no problem with Albert's salary. He made more money than I'd ever seen. But I was sick of his money. I didn't need a brand new car. A nice used one would do fine. I mean, I figured, what about Craig? What is it doing to him growing up with all this extravagant waste?

So I went, and I couldn't help feeling the power that Albert's money brought. I could buy any of these cars, any one I wanted.

"Hello. Can I help you?" The salesman, the one from the commercials. He seemed so friendly, so open and giving in a way that Albert was not. Definitely not. But that was first impression crap. What did I know? They way I was feeling every man was scum, secret scum at heart.

"Um, yeah. I'd like to buy a car,"

He smiled, because I guess I was probably a sale in the bag. But I felt such a good feeling from him, like he was kind and considerate and that maybe, maybe he wasn't violent and belittling and infuriating like my husband was. Maybe.

So we talked about the specifics, and I told him I didn't really care what kind and what color and all that, but I would like it to be his best, most reliable car. That was the power of Albert's money, and he gave me that look that I hadn't grown up with and couldn't get used to. That deferential look.

We went into his office and he started talking about payment plans and I shook my head.

"That won't be necessary," I said, "I have enough to pay for it,"

There was a picture of a little girl on his desk, and I thought maybe that was his daughter so I asked him.

"No, that's Emma. My friend's daughter," He smiled at the picture of the little blond girl, and I smiled, too, happy for some reason that he didn't have kids.

"How about you? Married? Kids?"

"Yeah," I said, disturbed at how upset I sounded. About the marriage, not Craig. I loved Craig more than anything. I just felt that I ruined his life.

"How many?" he said, and I looked at him.

"How many what?" I said.

"How many kids?"

"Oh, um, one. A boy, Craig. He's a great kid, really. A really great kid," I was almost in tears. Oh my God. In the office of this stranger I was going to break down and cry. Because Craig was a great kid. So smart and so kind, so creative. But I saw new things in him now. Fear. I saw him second guessing his father just like I did. I saw anger just under the surface. He was so young. Eight years old. And me and Albert, we were fucking him up.

"Well, that's good," He was puzzled. No wonder. I just shook my head but the tears wouldn't go away. They spilled over.

"What's wrong?" he asked in alarm as I pulled a tissue from my purse.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. I've just been a little emotional lately. I'm fine," I smiled and stopped crying. What a freak I was. But I just felt so comfortable around this person, this man, and I hadn't felt comfortable around men in years.

"I'm Joey, by the way," he said, and smiled wide, "Joey Jeremiah,"

He offered his hand and I shook it, offering up my own name in return.

"I'm Julia. Julia Manning,"

I drove home in my new car, having traded in my old one. I got there before the bus was due to drop Craig off. He was in third grade. He came home, kind of burst in the door and I was so happy to see him I felt like I would burst.

"Mommy!" He had a bunch of papers he'd done at school and I looked through them, praised him for how good he was doing. His hair was getting a little long. It was so curly. I ran my fingers through it, smiled at him but a little sadly.

We waited through the long afternoon for Albert to come home, both of us growing quieter and quieter, and I felt the tension. Craig picked up on it, too. We both knew how unpredictable Albert could be, how angry he could be. I knew his job was stressful, I knew. But that didn't excuse it. Not at all.

He came home. Albert Manning. My husband. Father of my child. Someone who was so unpredictable. What did I ever see in him? How was it that I did not foresee this?

I looked at Craig who looked at Albert with wide eyes. Cautious eyes. How would he be today?

"That goddamn hospital-" he threw his bag and his coat down on the rug, and Craig gasped and ran upstairs. He had that option and I didn't begrudge him. I didn't. I'd have to face the storm.

"What happened?" I said softly, but I stayed on the couch.

"That son of a bitch Steinberg I could kill him-"

Albert tended to just cut off what he was saying, to just stop dead in a sentence. I looked at him with glassy fearful eyes. He was mad. When he was mad like this two people paid the price. Me and Craig. I ran my hand nervously along my pant leg, watched him, wished I could bolt upstairs like Craig did.

He ranted for awhile longer, but he didn't start yelling at me, turning his anger on me like he sometimes did. Usually it was me but sometimes Craig. I felt like I could take it, even punches and slaps and kicks, whatever it was. But it wasn't fair for that to happen to Craig, when he was so little, and he didn't deserve it. What kind of a mother was I, anyway? Letting my child stay here where he got hit? But Albert had all the money, and I had nowhere to turn to, nowhere to go. And I kept thinking, like some mental patient, that Albert would change. That he'd stopped taking out his frustrations on us. I thought this again and again.

The storm had passed. Albert stalked off to his study, and I breathed a sigh of relief. And I thought of Joey. Joey Jeremiah who I had met today, who had seemed so nice and kind. I closed my eyes and felt a strange moment of happiness, thinking about him. Then I stood up and headed upstairs to Craig's room, to let him know that I was okay.