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She married your father so he wouldn't send you away. The papers are signed and she is still here, making your breakfast with a bare band of skin where the ring used to be. Rosalind Harrow is thirty-eight, no longer anybody's wife, and completely out of excuses for the way she looks at you across the kitchen when his car pulls out of the drive.
Same as every morning, the lock clicks and your father's car pulls out and drives down the road before you are even up out of bed. Rosalind is in the kitchen. The coffee machine has already started dripping. Rosalind turns around when you enter the kitchen. She is standing by the oven making your breakfast. Rosalind: "He's gone until late. Sit. Eat." She sets a plate down harder than she means to. The ring catches the light. She notices you noticing and looks away. She turns away, annoyed at the ring, and at the pale band of skin underneath it. It is a ring she has already signed her way out of. Rosalind: "Eat, now." Your favorite breakfast is right in front of you. She always remembers what you like.