Chương 6
He gave a short, defeated laugh.
“I hated you for being better at surviving than I was.”
The honesty of it stunned me more than another lie would have.
Nathan looked toward the floor.
I felt something inside me soften for half a second.
Then I remembered the bank statement.
Softness disappeared.
“So you punished me.”
Julian’s face tightened.
“I didn’t think of it like that.”
“You insulted how I looked.”
“I was angry.”
“You compared me to Selina.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
He did not answer.
“Why her?”
Julian rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead.
“Because she looked… put together.”
Nathan’s head snapped up.
Selina was not in the doorway anymore.
I was grateful for that.
“And I didn’t.”
“I’m not saying it was right.”
“You said it often.”
“I know.”
“What did you think I was supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come home from work and become decorative?”
“No.”
“Lose weight while breastfeeding?”
“No.”
“Buy dresses while paying your share of the mortgage?”
“Claire.”
“No, tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
His voice cracked.
“I don’t know what I wanted.”
That, at least, sounded true.
Nathan leaned against the doorframe.
“There’s more.”
Julian looked at him with pure warning.
“Nate.”
Nathan folded his arms.
“You told her you were leaving.”
“I said I was thinking about it.”
“You had an apartment application.”
The room went still again.
I looked at Julian.
“An application.”
He closed his eyes.
Nathan exhaled.
“You put me down as a reference.”
Julian’s voice turned flat.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to tell her if you told her yourself.”
“That is not what you said.”
“It’s exactly what I said.”
“When?”
I asked it before either of them could continue.
Nathan looked at me.
“January.”
January.
I pictured snow piled gray along the driveway and a broken furnace vent Julian had spent an entire Saturday pretending to repair before we finally called somebody.
I pictured our anniversary.
He had bought me grocery-store flowers and apologized because money was tight.
I had kissed him and told him it was fine.
Everything became evidence after betrayal.
That was one of its cruelties.
The past did not stay where you left it.
It came back demanding new interpretation.
“Did you sign a lease?”
“No.”
Julian answered quickly.
“Why not?”
He hesitated.
“Because they wanted a bigger deposit.”
Nathan looked at him.
Julian’s face hardened.
“That was part of it.”
“What was the other part?”
He looked at me.
“You got pneumonia.”
I frowned.
Then I remembered February.
Three days of fever.
A cough that hurt my ribs.
Mara had taken Sophie.
Ben had slept badly.
Julian had made soup from a can and brought it upstairs with crackers arranged on the plate as if presentation might compensate for everything else.
He had slept on the floor beside the bed because I kept waking up coughing.
I had thought we were getting better.
“You stayed because I got sick?”
“For a while.”
“That’s not staying.”
“No.”
“What happened after I got better?”
He looked toward the backyard.
The last few guests were leaving through the side gate.
Someone had taken down the silver four balloon, but the zero remained tied to the fence.
“I didn’t know how to go.”
I laughed softly.
“You practiced on me.”
“What?”
“You left in every way that hurt me before you actually left the house.”
His face changed.
I had not planned the sentence.
It came from somewhere tired and old.
Julian looked away first.
Nathan took his phone from the counter.
“I’m going to check on Selina.”
I nodded.
At the door, he stopped.
“Claire.”
I looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
It was not enough.
We both knew it.
“Go.”
He left.
Julian and I stood alone in the kitchen.
The music outside had stopped again.
Mason was packing cables into a black case.
Somebody laughed faintly near the gate, the uncomfortable laugh of guests finally escaping someone else’s disaster.
Julian opened the refrigerator and stared inside.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
He closed it.
A smear of blue frosting was visible through the cake box window.
“Do you want me to leave tonight?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
The immediate obedience frightened me.
“Where will you go?”
“Nathan’s.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You don’t get to make him responsible for you again.”
“He offered.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“So he knew you might leave.”
“He knew I was having problems.”
I stared at him.
“You told him our marriage was failing.”
“Yes.”
“But not me.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“You remember that night at the Italian place?”
I did.
We had gone out because Mara insisted on babysitting.
Julian had spent most of dinner looking at his phone.
I had asked if he was cheating.
He had laughed.
The laugh had hurt enough that I changed the subject.
“What did you try to say?”
“That I wasn’t happy.”
“You said the pasta was overcooked.”
He looked almost offended.
“Before that.”
“You said you felt trapped.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you meant unemployment.”
“I meant everything.”
I folded my arms.
“Did everything include me?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
The answer should have devastated me.
Instead, I felt tired.
A deep, physical tiredness that made the kitchen lights seem too bright.
“Take a hotel.”
“With what?”
I stared at him.
For the first time that night, he seemed to hear the absurdity of his own question.
He rubbed his face.
“Right.”
“Use your secret account.”
He nodded.
“And tomorrow, I want statements.”
His expression tightened.
“All of them.”
“Claire.”
“All of them.”
“What for?”
“So I know what our actual finances are.”
“They’re my earnings.”
I looked at him.
The old defensiveness had returned almost instantly.
It told me more than an apology could have.
“Then talk to a lawyer.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You already planning the divorce?”
“I’m planning to stop being the only person in this marriage who prepares for bad outcomes.”
May you like
“That sounds like a yes.”
“I don’t know what it is.”
