Chương 3
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Nora said.
“You want me to apologize to the dog?”
“He understands tone.”
“He licks drywall.”
“He contains multitudes.”
For the first time since the dining room, Ethan smiled.
Nora did not.
He let the smile go.
Around eleven, his phone began vibrating.
He ignored the first call.
Then Caroline called.
He stared at his sister’s name.
Nora noticed.
“You should answer.”
“I don’t want to.”
“She’s going to keep calling.”
“She can enjoy the experience.”
“Ethan.”
He stood and went into the hallway.
Caroline answered before the first ring finished.
“Is Nora okay?”
“Why did you tell her?”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“Why did you tell Mom about Denver?”
“Is Nora okay?”
“Answer me.”
“I thought she already knew.”
“That is such bullshit.”
“I’m asking if Nora and the baby are okay.”
“They’re monitoring her.”
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make the worried-sister noise like that gets you out of this.”
“I did not make a noise.”
“You told her.”
“I told her you were considering an offer.”
“You knew I hadn’t told her.”
“I knew you were avoiding telling her.”
“Which part of that sounded like your job?”
Caroline went quiet.
In the background he could hear one of her children asking for something. A cabinet door closed. Caroline said, “One second, honey,” away from the phone.
The ordinariness of it irritated him.
“I was trying to stop this from becoming worse.”
“You did a beautiful job.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
“I thought if she heard it from me, she’d have a few days to calm down before you talked to her.”
“She invited my pregnant wife to dinner and cornered her in front of her friends.”
“What?”
“She grabbed Nora when Nora tried to leave.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know she was going to—”
“And then Nora fell.”
Caroline stopped breathing into the phone.
“What do you mean fell?”
“On the floor.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“I walked in while Mom was standing over her drinking wine.”
“That isn’t—”
“Don’t tell me what it isn’t. You weren’t there.”
“No, I mean that’s not what I thought would happen.”
“What did you think would happen?”
Caroline did not answer.
Ethan laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Right.”
“Ethan, I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
“I am.”
“Okay.”
“What did Mom say?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“I flipped her dining table.”
Caroline was silent again.
“You what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
He nearly hung up.
Instead he looked through the narrow window in Nora’s room. She was scrolling through something on her phone with one hand resting on her belly.
“You know why.”
“No, I really don’t. I understand being angry. I don’t understand overturning a table at a woman who is sixty-eight years old.”
“I didn’t throw it at her.”
“Oh, great distinction.”
“I said I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Mom called me crying.”
He stared at the wall.
Margaret Hale almost never cried.
At their father’s funeral, she had stood beside the casket for forty minutes with a tissue folded cleanly in one hand.
“What did she say?”
“That you terrified everyone. That Nora tripped and you came in like—her words—some kind of lunatic.”
Ethan shut his eyes.
“Of course.”
“And she said the board is going to hear about it.”
“Of course.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Are you going to the office tomorrow?”
“It’s Friday.”
“I know what day it is.”
“Then probably not.”
“I think you should talk to Leonard before Mom does.”
“Why?”
“Because if she tells him first—”
“She already has.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s Mom.”
Caroline exhaled.
“That doesn’t mean her version becomes the truth.”
“You should put that on a pillow.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I know.”
That stopped both of them.
Caroline said, more quietly, “I really am sorry.”
Ethan looked again at Nora.
This time, when he answered, he did not make his sister work for punishment.
“I believe you.”
It was not forgiveness.
But it was something Caroline could carry home.
At one in the morning, the doctor told Nora she could leave.
The baby’s monitoring had remained reassuring. Nora had a bruised hip, soreness along one side, and strict instructions to return if she had bleeding, worsening pain, regular contractions, fluid leakage, decreased fetal movement, or anything that frightened her.
Nora repeated the instructions back.
Ethan asked whether they should stay longer.
The doctor said no.
He asked whether there could be complications later.
The doctor said that was why they were giving them clear return precautions and follow-up.
He asked if Nora should be on bed rest.
Nora said, “Ethan.”
The doctor smiled faintly.
“No,” she said. “She should listen to her body, follow the discharge instructions, and call her obstetrician.”
In the elevator, Nora leaned against the mirrored wall.
Her hair smelled faintly like Margaret’s dining room: perfume, candle wax, and wine.
Ethan pressed the button for the parking garage.
“I’m not going back there,” Nora said.
He turned.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“No dinners. No holidays. No showing up because she’s sick and then pretending everything is normal two weeks later.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not asking you never to see your mother.”
“I know.”
“I’m telling you I won’t.”
“Okay.”
The elevator doors opened.
Nora did not move.
Ethan waited.
She looked at him.
“And I don’t want you quitting your job tomorrow because you’re angry.”
He said nothing.
Her mouth tightened.
“That was already the plan, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I was considering it.”
“You were considering Denver.”
“I was considering leaving.”
“Those are different.”
He looked down the empty garage lane.
“I know.”
“Then figure out which one you mean.”
They walked to the car without touching.
At home, Sampson had indeed urinated beside the laundry room.
Nora stood staring at the puddle while Ethan looked for paper towels.
“He’s so vindictive,” she said.
“He’s ancient.”
“He knew what he was doing.”
May you like
“He cannot hear the microwave.”
“He knows betrayal.”
