Chương 6
“I know.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you need copies of everything before he knows what you’ve seen.”
“He already knows about the messages.”
Anna swore softly.
“Okay.”
“Your brother-in-law’s brother does family law, right?”
“Evan.”
“Yes.”
“He does.”
“I want his number.”
Anna did not react with triumph or panic.
That steadied me.
“I’ll text it.”
“I’m not saying I’m filing anything.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“I just need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“I know.”
The words were gentle enough that I hated them.
I stared across the parking lot at a father crouching beside a minivan while his daughter tied her shoelace.
“Anna.”
“Yeah?”
“If I call a lawyer, does that mean I’ve already decided?”
“No.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means you called a lawyer.”
That was such an Anna answer that I closed my eyes.
“Okay.”
“Come to my house.”
“I have work.”
“Margot.”
“I do.”
“So bring your laptop.”
“I have client payroll due.”
“Bring payroll.”
I drove home instead.
Partly because I needed clothes.
Partly because I was angry enough to reject sensible advice on principle.
Caleb’s car was still in the driveway.
When I entered, he was sitting at the kitchen table.
The cereal mess was gone.
So were the breakfast bowls.
He had cleaned the counters.
That nearly made me furious.
“You stayed.”
He stood.
“I told them I had a family emergency.”
The phrase family emergency sounded strange in his mouth.
“You do.”
“I know.”
He watched me put my purse down.
“I’m sorry.”
I did not answer.
“I should have told you she was back.”
“That is a very small corner of what you should be sorry for.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“No, you know you got caught.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Good.”
He blinked.
I had surprised myself too.
“I’m not interested in being fair this morning.”
Caleb pulled out a chair.
“Can we sit?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
He remained standing.
“I never slept with her.”
“You keep leading with that like it earns points.”
“Because it matters.”
“It matters to you.”
“It should matter to you too.”
“It does.”
I crossed my arms.
“It means there are different questions.”
His jaw moved.
He was beginning to understand that denial would not return us to yesterday.
“I’ve been unhappy.”
There it was.
I had expected the sentence and still felt it like a slap.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Maybe a year.”
I laughed softly.
“A year.”
“It wasn’t one thing.”
“Was I informed?”
“Margot.”
“Was there a meeting?”
“What?”
“An email?”
“Don’t do that.”
“A calendar invitation?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, apparently I don’t.”
My voice rose.
“I would have loved a performance review, Caleb.”
He looked down.
I kept going because anger had finally found somewhere to stand.
“I might have appreciated knowing that while I was scheduling your dentist appointments and taking your mother to her colonoscopy because you had a conference call, you were quietly deciding our marriage had become maintenance.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You wrote it.”
“I was frustrated.”
“About what?”
He looked at me.
“Everything.”
“Excellent.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I come home and it’s schedules and lunches and school forms and bills and what needs fixing.”
I stared at him.
“That is our life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re describing the parts I handle so you don’t have to.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s exactly what you’re saying.”
He pushed his hand through his hair.
“With Rebecca, I could just talk.”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
“Without consequences.”
He went still.
I had found it before he had.
“That’s what you mean.”
I stepped closer.
“She didn’t need anything from you.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“She didn’t need you to sign a permission form or remember picture day or replace the air filter or get home before bedtime.”
“Margot.”
“She got the version of you who had already completed all his responsibilities because I was standing behind him completing half of them.”
“I never asked you to do everything.”
The sentence hung there.
For the first time in six years, I wanted to throw something.
I did not.
Instead I opened the junk drawer.
Caleb watched me pull out three school forms, two unopened pieces of mail addressed to him, a reminder card for his annual physical, and Patricia’s handwritten note about a charity luncheon.
I placed them one by one on the counter.
“No.”
I shut the drawer.
“You just learned not to notice who did.”
His face changed.
Not enough.
But some defensive certainty left it.
I remembered the money.
“Why did you transfer five thousand dollars from savings?”
He looked up sharply.
That reaction was worse than any answer.
“What?”
“August eleventh.”
“I can explain that.”
“Then explain.”
He glanced toward the window.
“Caleb.”
“It was for a retainer.”
The room seemed to tilt even though nothing moved.
“What kind of retainer?”
He swallowed.
“I met with a divorce attorney.”
For a few seconds, I heard only the refrigerator motor and a truck changing gears somewhere beyond our street.
The kitchen looked exactly as it had ten minutes earlier.
The coffee mug beside the sink.
Lucy’s abandoned pink cup.
A banana going brown in the fruit bowl.
Nothing in the room had changed, yet every object seemed to belong to a house I had just been evicted from.
“You met with a divorce attorney.”
Caleb opened his mouth.
I held up my hand.
“Do not tell me it was just information.”
His mouth closed.
That was exactly what he had planned to say.
“When?”
“August eleventh.”
“The same day you moved the money.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew?”
“No one.”
I stared at him.
“Rebecca?”
He looked away.
The answer arrived before his voice did.
“She knew I was considering it.”
“Considering what?”
“Talking to someone.”
May you like
“You were discussing a lawyer with her before you discussed our marriage with me.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
