Chương 4
"I wanted you to tell her."
"And become the villain?"
"You are the villain, Daniel."
Present-day Daniel pulled against Eric's arm.
"Turn it off."
Nobody moved.
Claire's recorded voice continued.
"You said you loved me."
"I did."
"Did?"
"You made your choice."
"What choice?"
"You picked Mark."
"I was engaged to him before this started."
"Exactly."
The recording went silent for several seconds.
I could hear faint traffic and something metallic clattering in the background.
Then Daniel said, "If I marry Anna, that's on you."
Claire whispered, "Don't say that."
"I mean it."
"Then don't marry her."
"You think it's that easy?"
"Yes."
A bitter laugh came through the speaker.
"No, Claire, it isn't."
"Why?"
"Because everybody already thinks she's the good one."
My mother made a small sound beside me.
I stopped the recording.
Daniel spoke immediately.
"That was taken out of context."
"How can your own recording be taken out of context?"
"You don't understand what was happening."
"Then explain it."
He looked around the room.
His audience had become painfully small now.
My parents.
Claire.
Mark.
Eric.
Luis.
Two bridesmaids lingering near the doors.
A venue manager whose expression suggested she had discovered a fresh category of insurance problem.
Daniel rubbed his jaw.
"Claire spent months telling me she wanted us to be together."
Claire shook her head.
"At the beginning."
"So I'm lying?"
"I didn't say that."
"You chased me."
"And you were engaged to Anna."
"After you told me you'd never leave Mark."
Claire closed her eyes.
The truth was apparently going to arrive in pieces, each one sharp enough to cut whatever remained.
I wanted them both to stop.
Instead I pressed play again.
Daniel's recorded voice said, "I'm not going to be the guy who gets dumped and then quietly marries the consolation prize."
Claire said, "Don't call her that."
"Why not?"
"Because she loves you."
"And that makes everything better?"
"No."
"She's spent her entire life following you around."
Claire snapped, "Leave her out of it."
"She's already in it."
"I mean it."
"So do I."
The next sound was close to the microphone, fabric rubbing against fabric.
Then Daniel said, much more quietly, "She should know what it feels like."
Claire's voice hardened.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"Daniel."
"Forget it."
The file ended.
I stared at the dark screen.
Nobody spoke.
My hands had stopped shaking.
That frightened me.
When I was thirteen, Claire broke my wrist by accident while teaching me to rollerblade.
I had not cried until we reached the emergency room.
The nurse had asked whether I was always that calm when I was hurt.
Claire answered for me.
"She freezes first."
I had hated her for saying it.
Now I could almost hear her younger voice.
She freezes first.
Daniel took a step toward me.
Eric blocked him again.
"Anna, I was angry when I said those things."
I looked at him.
"Three days ago?"
He nodded quickly.
"Yes."
"The bucket was hidden this morning."
His mouth tightened.
"I lost control."
"You carried a bucket of paint into the building and hid it before the ceremony."
He looked toward the flowers.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"How was it supposed to happen?"
He did not answer.
I looked down at the recorder.
There were three files left.
The second was from the previous evening.
I selected it.
This time the recording began with footsteps.
A door closed.
Daniel said, "You're sure?"
A male voice answered.
Not Eric.
I didn't recognize it.
"Yeah."
Daniel said, "And it'll wash out?"
"Eventually."
"You said washable."
"It's theatrical paint."
The other man sounded annoyed.
"It'll stain light fabric, obviously."
Daniel laughed.
"That's kind of the point."
My mother stood so abruptly her chair scraped backward.
"Oh my God."
The man on the recording said, "I'm serious, man, don't get it in anybody's eyes."
"I'm not an idiot."
"You're buying five gallons of fake blood-colored paint the night before your wedding."
"Red paint."
"Whatever."
There was the sound of a register drawer opening.
The unknown man said, "You still haven't told me what this is for."
Daniel answered, "Performance art."
The man laughed.
Daniel did too.
I stopped the audio.
Eric let go of Daniel.
He stepped away as if proximity itself had become embarrassing.
"You told me you were going home last night."
Daniel looked at him.
"Eric, don't."
"No."
Eric rubbed both palms across his face.
"You called me at eleven and said you were going home because you wanted to write your vows."
"I did."
"You bought paint?"
"It wasn't supposed to—"
"Stop saying that."
Eric's voice rose.
"You don't accidentally buy five gallons of paint."
The venue manager finally stepped forward.
She was a woman named Paula whom I had spent nine months emailing about linens, permits, candles, and whether the florist could use freestanding arches.
Until that moment, she had looked stunned.
Now she looked professional.
Professional was worse.
"Mr. Mercer, I need you to leave the property."
Daniel turned to her.
"This is my wedding."
"No, sir."
Her eyes flicked toward me.
"The event is over."
He laughed.
"You can't kick me out of my own venue."
"I can when you've damaged property and created a safety issue."
"I paid for this place."
I found my voice.
"We paid."
He looked at me.
Our joint credit card had covered the final venue installment.
The card with my name first because my credit score was better.
It was such a stupid detail to remember then.
Paula said, "Security is on the way."
Daniel's expression changed.
"You called security?"
"I called them when you shoved the bride's father."
Dad lifted his swollen hand.
"Technically, I hit him first."
Mom closed her eyes.
"Tom."
"What?"
"This is not the time to be accurate."
For one second, a ridiculous bubble of laughter rose inside me.
It escaped as a broken sound.
Everyone looked at me.
I covered my mouth.
May you like
Then Claire started laughing too.
Hers collapsed immediately into sobbing.
