Chương 4
I had finally started using it because grief did not preserve cosmetics.
I rubbed cream under my eyes and waited for Ethan.
At twelve nineteen, headlights swept across the front windows.
He came in carrying no bag.
That bothered me immediately.
People planning to leave usually packed something.
People escaping often did not.
His tie was gone.
The top two buttons of his white shirt were open.
He looked exhausted.
I hugged him.
He stiffened at first.
Then his forehead dropped against my shoulder.
For a few seconds, he made no sound.
I held the back of his head.
His hair smelled faintly of restaurant smoke and whatever expensive shampoo Lauren had convinced him to buy.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
“I should’ve stopped her.”
“Yes.”
He stepped back.
The answer had hurt him.
I let it.
“I froze.”
“I know that too.”
“I’ve never seen her hit anybody else.”
I touched my cheek.
“That is not especially comforting.”
He looked down.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing every nine seconds.”
A weak laugh escaped him.
Then he covered his face with both hands.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I led him into the kitchen.
The cookies were still on the counter.
He looked at the white initials and let out a strange breath.
“You still have those?”
“They cost thirty-six dollars.”
Despite everything, he laughed again.
“Grandma.”
“I’m not throwing away perfectly good buttercream because your romantic life is unstable.”
He sat at the table.
I put a cookie in front of him.
He did not eat it.
For nearly a minute, we listened to the refrigerator hum.
Then he said, “She’s not always like this.”
There it was.
The sentence everybody says when one version of a person has become impossible to defend.
“What is she like the rest of the time?”
He picked at the icing.
“Funny.”
“I know.”
“Generous.”
“I’ve seen that.”
“She paid my rent for two months when I got laid off.”
That was new.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“You told me you had severance.”
“I did.”
“But?”
“It ran out.”
I sat across from him.
The ten thousand dollars I had given him six months earlier moved through my mind differently now.
Not because I wanted it back.
Because I had not known he needed it in the way he apparently did.
“What else haven’t you told me?”
He stared at the cookie.
“Probably a lot.”
“Start with the money.”
He rubbed his thumb through a smear of icing.
“Lauren makes more than I do.”
“I know.”
“She made more even before I got laid off.”
“Yes.”
“She hates that.”
“Why?”
“She says she doesn’t hate it.”
“That was not my question.”
He looked up.
“She thinks I’m not ambitious enough.”
I waited.
“She paid most of the apartment costs for a while.”
“And resented it.”
“Sometimes.”
“Did she control your spending?”
His eyes flickered.
That was enough.
“How?”
“She’d ask what things cost.”
“That is not control.”
“She wanted screenshots of my checking account.”
That was closer.
“Why?”
“She said if she was carrying us, she deserved transparency.”
“Did she show you hers?”
“No.”
I leaned back.
Ethan looked embarrassed now.
More embarrassed by the bank account than the slap.
Shame attaches itself to strange things.
“She started checking my location too.”
“Through your phone?”
“We share locations.”
“Do you check hers?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t care where she is.”
“And she cares where you are.”
He nodded.
“Especially after work.”
“Why especially then?”
“She thinks I stop at bars.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“How often?”
He looked irritated.
“Grandma.”
“I am not building a case for you.”
He exhaled.
“Once or twice a week.”
“Alone?”
“Usually with people from work.”
“Do you get drunk?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, twice.”
“Recently?”
“Once in March.”
“Did you drive?”
“No.”
I nodded.
He looked offended.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I do.”
“Then why are you interrogating me?”
“Because if you want me to believe Lauren’s behavior exists in a vacuum, I won’t.”
He stared at me.
“So this is my fault?”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“Do not do that.”
He looked away.
“Your mistakes can be real without making her violence your fault.”
The muscles in his jaw moved.
“I kissed somebody.”
The kitchen went still.
I did not speak.
He looked at me again.
“Not recently.”
“When?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
“Before or after the engagement?”
“Before.”
“Did Lauren know?”
“Yes.”
That changed several things without excusing any of them.
I folded my hands.
“Who?”
“A woman from my old job.”
“Once?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Lauren?”
“No.”
“She found messages.”
“What kind of messages?”
“Nothing explicit.”
He winced.
“That sounds bad.”
“It sounds incomplete.”
“We flirted.”
“For how long?”
“A few weeks.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
He stared at me.
“That seems personal.”
“You arrived at midnight because your fiancée hit you.”
“Fair.”
He rubbed both palms over his knees.
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
I looked toward the dark window over the sink.
This was becoming uglier.
That was probably good.
Truth usually is.
“Lauren stayed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I begged her.”
“Did anything change afterward?”
“At first.”
“How?”
“I gave her my passwords.”
“All of them?”
“Pretty much.”
“Banking?”
“Yes.”
“Email?”
“Yes.”
“Social media?”
“Yes.”
“Location?”
“Yes.”
“And you thought this was temporary.”
He gave me a tired smile.
“I didn’t really think.”
That sounded more like him.
“She checked everything?”
“Not every day.”
“How would you know?”
He looked at me.
Then he understood.
“I guess I wouldn’t.”
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Ethan’s face went pale before either of us touched it.
A text notification appeared from an unknown number.
I picked up the phone.
The message was short.
This is Denise.
Lauren is distraught.
Ethan needs to return to the hotel immediately so we can handle this privately before tomorrow.
I showed him.
He whispered, “How did she get your number?”
May you like
“From half the family, probably.”
Another message arrived before I answered.
