I turned around.
Richard was no longer sitting on the couch.
He was standing beside the television.
And in his hand was the pastel pink package I had kept hidden upstairs.
My protective underwear.
Six grown men were staring at me.
Richard lifted the package as though he had just won a trophy.
“Look what I found! Our triplets already know how to hold it in, but apparently their mother is still working on it!”
The room erupted again.
My ears began ringing.
The plates suddenly felt impossibly heavy in my hands.
Richard kept going.
“Careful, guys. Don’t make her laugh too much or we’ll have to protect the couch!”
My face burned.
“Richard, please put that away.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Oh, relax, Bel. It’s a joke. If you’re embarrassed, maybe you should’ve fixed the problem by now.”
Someone whistled.
Another man slapped the couch.
