There was the first time Frankie laid a hand on her, furious after losing money during fantasy football, as if Gloria had been the one who drafted the players on his team. Then Frankie beat Gloria when she was pregnant so bad that she was bleeding and thought her child may have been killed by his father. There was also the time Frankie’s temper was igniting, over something Gloria has forgotten about, only remembering how she ran out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel and grabbed three-year-old Pazito and hid in a neighbor’s apartment as Frankie tried finding her, a puddle building around her bare feet as she clamped her hand over Pazito’s mouth so he wouldn’t respond to his father as he called out his name, like the worst game of hide-and-seek. And Gloria certainly can’t forget about when she was out late for Rolando’s birthday, and how Frankie wanted her home sooner and sought her out when she didn’t answer her cell phone, as if she was in bed with Rolando, something her heart has called for many times before but she never acted on it because she wanted to be better than Frankie, who had no problems cheating on her—as if she didn’t know about the neighbor downstairs. When Frankie demanded she get in the cab, Gloria refused, seeing how furious he was. But Frankie left the cab like it was a cage and hurled himself on Gloria like a wild animal, attacking her in public, in front of Pazito, who cried from the backseat. Hospitalized while Frankie only spent one night in prison, Gloria was scared she might die.

And now, Gloria must do what she fears most.

Leave.

This is the only escape.

The only way out is through, as Robert Frost says.

Gloria goes through, stepping into her apartment for what could be the last time. The door is still propped open, and Pazito is sitting with Frankie, who pays Rolando no mind as he enters with Gloria.

“Hi,” Gloria says. A more astute husband would know something is up already. Gloria and Frankie never greet each other. She sets down her bag on the small kitchen table, ready to slip out of her shoes when she remembers she won’t be staying long. She can track all the footprints around the apartment that she wants. It will be Frankie’s mess to clean for once. “How was your day?”

Frankie grunts. “I told you Death-Cast wasn’t the future,” he says to Rolando without looking at him. “You sure you weren’t fired?”

“I quit,” Rolando says.

Gloria can sense that Rolando wants to say more, to challenge Frankie, but all that will do is sour his mood even more. She nods at Rolando, who takes his cue and walks toward Pazito’s bedroom.

“Come show me your new train set,” Rolando says.