His pride is hurt. If he has a gun….
But he drives away, tires screeching.
I sigh, part of me disappointed it didn’t come to blows.
“He had no right to call you that,” I say, turning to Faye.
“Nobody’s ever stood up for me like that,” she murmurs.
I reach down, take her hands, feel them trembling and hold them tightly, so she knows she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.
She squeezes my hands in return as if telling me I don’t have to be angry anymore.
I’ll always stand up for you, I almost say, but then the cashier clears his throat.
It’s good. He’s stopped me from going too far.
As if there’s any such thing with my Faye.