Chương 9
“Or she might tell you a sad story so you feel guilty and go home.”
“That too.”
“Would you go alone?”
Emily did not answer quickly enough.
Megan groaned.
“No.”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“Congratulations.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“You also didn’t need your husband visiting your workplace, but this week has been full of surprises.”
Emily turned toward the window.
“I don’t want this to become everybody managing me.”
Megan’s expression changed.
She nodded.
“Fair.”
The car grew quiet.
After another light, Megan said, “Then tell me what you want from me.”
Emily looked at her sister.
The question was so simple it almost felt unfamiliar.
“Nothing right now.”
“Okay.”
Megan did not argue.
That evening, Emily called Linda.
She did it from the small balcony outside Megan’s living room because the apartment felt too close for the conversation.
November wind cut through her sweater.
Linda answered immediately.
“Finally.”
Emily nearly hung up.
Instead she said, “You wanted to talk.”
“I wanted to stop this from getting worse.”
“Then don’t start by scolding me.”
Linda went silent.
Emily heard a television playing softly on her end.
“All right,” Linda said.
The concession sounded difficult.
“I’m sorry for the message.”
Emily waited.
“That’s not why I called.”
“I figured.”
Linda exhaled.
“When Ryan told you about his father, what exactly did he say?”
“That he used to throw towels at you.”
Another silence.
“And?”
“That you sometimes threw them back.”
Linda made a sound that might have been a laugh.
“That’s what he remembers.”
“What happened?”
“You married my son yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know everything about this family.”
“No one told me I was supposed to.”
Linda ignored that.
“Bill was not an easy man.”
Emily leaned against the railing.
Traffic moved below in red lines.
“Ryan always talks about him like he was.”
“Children do that when someone dies.”
“Ryan was twenty-four when his father died.”
“He was still his child.”
Emily rubbed warmth into one hand.
“What does this have to do with yesterday?”
Linda did not answer immediately.
When she did, her voice was quieter.
“Bill had rules.”
“What kind?”
“The kind men have when they think paying the mortgage makes them king of the house.”
Emily closed her eyes briefly.
Linda continued.
“He expected dinner at a certain time.”
“He didn’t like me working weekends.”
“He went through my purse.”
“He’d make jokes in front of people that weren’t really jokes.”
Each sentence landed with uncomfortable familiarity.
Emily listened to the soft drag of Linda’s breathing.
“Did he hit you?”
“Once.”
The answer came too fast to be invented.
Emily opened her eyes.
“What happened?”
“I threw a coffee mug.”
“At him?”
“At the wall.”
Linda gave a dry little laugh.
“I missed him by a good three feet, so don’t make me heroic.”
Emily said nothing.
“After that, he never hit me again.”
“But the rest continued?”
“Some of it.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
A car horn sounded below.
Emily tightened her grip on the phone.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I need you to understand Ryan learned things.”
Emily’s jaw clenched.
“No.”
“What?”
“That is not where you get to take this.”
Linda’s voice sharpened.
“I’m not excusing him.”
“You laughed yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You told me to toughen up.”
“I know what I said.”
“You gave me chores like I had moved in to replace you.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Linda fell quiet.
Emily could hear the television in the background again.
Someone on a game show applauded.
Finally, Linda said, “I meant that I thought if you adapted quickly, things would stay peaceful.”
Emily felt the cold differently after that.
It slipped beneath her sleeves.
“Peaceful for who?”
Linda did not answer.
Emily’s throat tightened.
“You knew.”
“I knew Ryan can be difficult.”
“No.”
Emily stood straighter.
“You knew what it felt like to live that way, and when you saw him do it to me, you helped him.”
Linda’s voice cracked.
“I did not help him.”
“You smiled.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
Emily looked through the balcony door.
Megan sat on the couch, deliberately facing away.
“You could have told him to stop.”
“I should have.”
The admission arrived without defense.
It surprised Emily enough that she said nothing.
Linda continued.
“I spent thirty years smoothing things over.”
Her voice had changed.
The certainty was gone.
“I learned how to make everything smaller.”
“If Bill got angry, I made the problem smaller.”
“If Ryan got upset, I made his feelings smaller too.”
“If I was embarrassed, I made that smaller.”
She paused.
“Yesterday you were the thing I tried to make smaller.”
Emily swallowed.
The apology she had wanted from somebody was here, and it did not feel satisfying.
It felt sad.
“Why didn’t you leave Bill?”
“That’s not one question.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there were twenty reasons, and none of them sound impressive by themselves.”
Linda’s breathing trembled.
“Money.”
“Ryan.”
“Shame.”
“My parents telling me marriage was hard.”
“Bill being wonderful for three months after being awful.”
“Me thinking I could manage him.”
“Me not wanting people to know.”
Her voice dropped.
“And eventually, not knowing who I was if I left.”
Emily sat in the metal balcony chair.
The seat was freezing through her jeans.
“Did Ryan know?”
“Not all of it.”
“Does he know Bill hit you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because after Bill died, Ryan started remembering the best version of him.”
“And you let him.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was almost brutal.
Emily looked at the city lights.
“You should tell him.”
Linda inhaled.
“I know.”
“Not for me.”
“I know.”
“You can’t tell him because you want me to come back.”
“I know.”
Linda sounded tired now.
Old, suddenly.
Emily had never heard her sound old.
“I’m not coming home tonight.”
“I figured.”
“Maybe not tomorrow either.”
Linda was quiet for several seconds.
Then she said, “Okay.”
May you like
Emily had expected resistance.
The absence of it frightened her more than another argument would have.
