Chương 11
Saturday arrived slowly enough for Emily to regret choosing it.
By noon, she had reorganized Megan’s spice cabinet, washed two loads of laundry that did not need washing, and opened the nursing program portal six separate times without discovering anything new.
Megan watched her move a jar of cumin from one shelf to another.
“You know this is not your apartment.”
“I know.”
“You’re alphabetizing my seasonings.”
“I’m improving your life.”
“You put paprika before oregano.”
Emily stared at the shelf.
Megan folded her arms.
“Emotionally unstable.”
Emily laughed and put the paprika back.
At one thirty, she changed sweaters twice.
At one forty-five, she stood by the door with her purse over one shoulder and did not move.
Megan remained on the couch.
“You want me to say something useful?”
“No.”
“Great.”
Emily reached for the doorknob.
“Emily.”
She turned.
Megan’s expression had lost its humor.
“You don’t owe him an outcome today.”
Emily nodded.
“I know.”
“Knowing and remembering are cousins, not twins.”
“That is definitely from a podcast.”
“It might be.”
Emily smiled.
Then she left.
The coffee shop sat on a corner near campus, wedged between a bookstore and a restaurant that sold noodles in oversized paper bowls.
It was busy enough that students filled most of the tables.
Emily arrived twelve minutes early.
Ryan was already there.
He sat near the back with a black coffee untouched in front of him.
When he saw her, he stood.
He did not approach.
That mattered.
Emily walked over.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
She took the chair across from him.
Ryan looked thinner than he had a week earlier.
His beard had started coming in unevenly along his jaw, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.
Emily immediately resented herself for noticing.
“You want anything?”
“I’ll get it.”
“I can—”
“I’ll get it.”
Ryan stopped.
“Okay.”
Emily bought tea she did not want and returned to the table.
For a while, neither spoke.
The milk steamer hissed behind the counter.
Someone dropped a metal spoon.
A group of students near the window laughed too loudly at something on a laptop.
Ryan rubbed his thumb over the cardboard sleeve around his coffee.
“How’s school stuff?”
“I accepted.”
His eyes lifted.
“For January?”
“Yes.”
A small smile appeared.
“That’s good.”
Emily waited for the rest.
No objection came.
“I gave notice at work that I’ll reduce my hours after Christmas.”
“Can you afford that?”
“I’m working on it.”
He nodded.
The old Ryan would have asked for numbers.
Maybe this Ryan wanted to and stopped himself.
Emily could not tell which possibility was worse.
Ryan looked at his coffee.
“I’ve been going to counseling twice a week.”
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“Twice?”
“He suggested once.”
“And?”
“I asked for twice.”
“Why?”
Ryan gave a short laugh without humor.
“Because apparently I have a lot of material.”
Emily looked down at her tea.
Ryan continued.
“I told him about Dad.”
“All of it?”
“What Mom told me.”
He swallowed.
“I didn’t believe her at first.”
Emily looked up.
Ryan’s mouth tightened.
“I thought she was exaggerating because she felt guilty about what happened with you.”
“That sounds like something you would think.”
“I know.”
He did not defend himself.
Emily waited.
“She showed me pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“From when he hit her.”
Emily went still.
Ryan looked toward the window.
“She had one picture from the next day.”
His voice lowered.
“Her cheek was purple.”
Emily did not speak.
“I asked why she still had it.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she took it because she was planning to leave.”
Ryan laughed once, bitterly.
“Then she didn’t.”
The sounds of the café continued around them.
A blender roared.
Someone called for an oat milk latte.
Emily wrapped both hands around her tea.
“How are you handling that?”
“Badly.”
The honesty surprised her.
Ryan looked at the table.
“I’ve been angry at him.”
“That makes sense.”
“And angry at her.”
“That also makes sense.”
“And then I feel like an asshole for being angry at her.”
“That makes sense too.”
He glanced at her.
“You sound like my counselor.”
“I charge less.”
For half a second, they both smiled.
The familiarity hurt more than hostility would have.
Ryan looked down again.
“He asked me why I’m angry at her.”
“What did you say?”
“That she let me think he was this great guy.”
Emily waited.
“And?”
“That she stayed.”
His voice became quieter.
“Then I heard myself say it.”
Emily felt her shoulders tighten.
Ryan stared at the coffee lid.
“I sounded like I was blaming her for what he did.”
“What did your counselor say?”
“He asked if I was.”
“And were you?”
Ryan did not answer quickly.
“I think part of me was.”
Emily appreciated the delay more than a perfect answer.
Ryan rubbed his palms together.
“I keep thinking if she had left, maybe I wouldn’t have learned any of this.”
Emily leaned back.
“That’s convenient.”
“I know.”
“You would still be responsible for what you do.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Ryan looked directly at her.
“Yes.”
The answer was calm.
Emily looked away first.
A student at the next table was drawing tiny stars along the edge of a notebook page instead of studying.
Emily watched the pen move.
“You said you thought you were becoming him.”
Ryan nodded.
“Do you still think that?”
“I think I learned him.”
“That’s not the same question.”
“No.”
He breathed in.
“I don’t know what becoming him would look like.”
Emily’s face tightened.
Ryan saw it.
“I don’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“How did you mean it?”
“I mean I thought bad husbands looked like Dad on the worst day.”
Emily did not move.
Ryan continued.
“I thought there was some line.”
“Hitting.”
“Yes.”
“And as long as you didn’t cross it, you were fine.”
“Yes.”
Emily nodded slowly.
“That’s a very useful line if you want permission to do everything before it.”
Ryan flinched.
May you like
“Yeah.”
Silence settled again.
