Chương 4
"Dad."
He looked at me.
"Mara wants us there tomorrow."
He put the container down.
"Both of us?"
"She said to bring you."
Mom looked up from the cake.
"What does she want?"
"I don't know."
Mom's face tightened.
"I should come."
I shook my head.
"She didn't ask for you."
Mom flinched.
Dad quietly pulled out a chair.
"Then we'll go."
Mom sat down.
For a while, none of us spoke.
The house had become strangely quiet after the party.
There were still balloons taped to the walls and unopened bottles of sparkling water on the counter, but the celebration had drained out of everything.
Dad picked up a paper napkin and folded it into smaller and smaller squares.
"Did she say where?"
"Her house."
He nodded.
Then he looked at Mom.
"You need to tell me what happened when she came here."
Mom stared at the cake.
"I already told you."
"No."
Dad's voice remained calm.
"You told us why you stayed silent."
He pushed the folded napkin aside.
"You haven't told us what she told you."
Mom's eyes filled again.
"She said Daniel was checking her phone."
I felt my stomach drop.
"Checking it how?"
"Passwords."
Mom rubbed her thumb against the edge of the table.
"He knew them."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Dad gave her a look.
She sighed.
"Because he said married people shouldn't have secrets."
I sat down.
That sentence sounded familiar.
Daniel had said almost exactly the same thing to me once when I was twenty-four and had started dating someone he didn't like.
I'd laughed at him then.
I'd told him he was being ridiculous.
He had laughed too.
Somehow, seven years later, it didn't feel funny.
Mom continued.
"He wanted to know where she went, who she talked to, what she bought."
"Bought?"
"Daniel said she was spending too much."
"Was she?"
Mom shook her head.
"Not from what I saw."
Dad leaned back.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Mom looked at him.
"Because I thought it was marital."
Dad's expression hardened.
"Checking her phone isn't the part that scares me."
"What is?"
"He had her passwords."
Mom looked down.
"She gave them to him."
I remembered Mara's face at the sink.
She had said something about getting tired of arguing over things that sounded stupid when spoken aloud.
Maybe the hair had never been the point.
Maybe it was simply the one thing Daniel had chosen to make visible.
At nine the next morning, Dad and I pulled into Mara's driveway.
Her car was parked crookedly near the garage.
The front door opened before we reached it.
Mara wore sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt, and socks.
Her hair was still damp.
The short cut made her look younger.
It also made her look unfamiliar.
"Come in."
Dad stepped inside first.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
He nodded.
"Okay."
Mara closed the door behind us.
The house smelled like toast.
A baby monitor sat on the kitchen counter even though the baby wasn't born yet.
I looked at it.
She noticed.
"I bought it last week."
"Right."
"I know."
She gave a small smile.
"I keep forgetting I'm allowed to buy things without asking whether they're necessary."
Dad looked at me.
I didn't say anything.
Mara walked to the kitchen.
"Coffee?"
"Sure," Dad said.
I said yes too.
She poured three cups.
Her hands shook slightly while she carried them.
Dad reached for his.
"You sit."
"I'm pregnant, not ninety."
He smiled.
"Your grandmother would say both things require supervision."
Mara laughed softly.
The sound loosened something in the room.
For several minutes we talked about nothing.
The coffee was too strong.
Dad complained about the toast being burnt.
Mara told him the toaster had been doing that for months.
He said he could fix it.
She said he had been saying that for months too.
It was ordinary enough that I almost forgot why we'd come.
Then Mara set her cup down.
"I need to show you something."
She walked to the hallway closet.
She pulled out a cardboard box.
It was sealed with clear packing tape.
"I kept copies."
"Of what?"
"Everything I could."
She carried it to the dining table and opened it.
Inside were envelopes, printed emails, handwritten notes, and two small flash drives.
My father sat down.
Mara remained standing.
"I started keeping records in January."
She handed me the first envelope.
Inside was a printed bank statement.
Several transactions were circled in blue ink.
"What's this?"
"My savings account."
I looked at the dates.
"These transfers aren't yours."
"No."
"Daniel's?"
Mara nodded.
"He moved money from our joint account into an account I couldn't access."
Dad frowned.
"Why?"
"He said it was for taxes."
"Was it?"
"I don't know."
She handed him another paper.
"This is the account statement from the tax preparer."
Dad read it.
His expression changed.
"He didn't use it for taxes."
Mara shook her head.
"I know."
I looked at her.
"How much?"
She gave me a number.
It wasn't enough to make anyone rich.
It was enough to make someone unable to leave comfortably.
Rent.
Deposits.
A hospital bill.
A car payment.
A few months without work.
The kind of money that didn't look important until you needed it.
Dad placed the statement down.
"Did you confront him?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said I was being dramatic."
Mara opened another envelope.
"This was the next day."
Inside was a printed text conversation.
Daniel had sent her several messages.
The first asked where she was.
The second asked why she hadn't answered.
The third said he was coming home.
The fourth was a photograph of the driveway.
My father stared at it.
"Why did he take this?"
"He wanted me to know he was watching."
I looked at the timestamp.
It had been taken while Mara was visiting Mom.
I looked at Mom's name in the text thread.
"You were here."
May you like
Mara nodded.
"That's when I talked to your mother."
