My attorney asked:
“Did Marcia ever tell you that you were forbidden to sleep?”
“No.”
“Did Colin?”
“No.”
“Then what do you mean when you say you were not allowed to rest?”
I thought.
“Every time I rested, something happened.”
“What?”
“Curtains opened. Groceries. Laundry. A comment. Theo brought to me even if Colin was available. A chore assigned. Dinner discussion.”
“Could you refuse?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“Sometimes.”
“What happened?”
“Marcia called me lazy. Colin told me his mother was trying to help. He said I was making his family feel unwanted. He said he needed me to make an effort.”
“Did anyone physically force you to cook?”
“No.”
“Clean?”
“No.”
“Shop?”
“No.”
“So why did you?”
I looked toward Colin.
“Because marriage is made of pressure that does not always use hands.”
Then defense.
“Mrs. Reed, did Marcia cook during the first week?”
“Yes.”
“Hold Theo?”
“Yes.”
“Help with laundry?”
“Yes.”
“Did Colin work?”
“Yes.”
“Pay household expenses?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have access to your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Car?”
“Yes.”
“Could you have called Giorgio?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him everything?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was embarrassed.”
“Was that Colin’s fault?”
“Not all of it.”
Good.
Then:
“You chose to go grocery shopping the day you collapsed?”
“Yes.”
“Marcia did not force you into the car?”
“No.”
“Colin?”
“No.”
“Then isn’t it possible you overextended yourself?”
I answered:
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
Then:
“I overextended myself inside a system they deliberately built to treat rest as failure.”
No purity.
No helplessness.
I made choices.
Those choices had been shaped.
Both mattered.
