Chương 9
Dana needed clarification about property records Rebecca had supplied, and Rebecca offered to meet rather than exchange ten more emails.
They chose a coffee shop in Arlington.
Claire arrived first.
She recognized Rebecca as soon as she entered.
Silver had begun threading through the dark hair Claire remembered from the photograph. Rebecca was fifty-five, tall, dressed in jeans and a camel coat. She paused inside the door and scanned the room.
Her eyes found Claire.
Neither woman smiled.
Rebecca ordered tea.
Claire had coffee.
For several minutes they discussed documents.
It was almost normal.
Then Rebecca touched the lid of her cup.
“I expected you to hate me more.”
“I haven’t decided how much yet.”
“Fair.”
Claire studied her.
“You knew my name for years.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever look me up?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
Rebecca looked embarrassed.
“At first? Too often.”
“What did you think?”
“That you had excellent hair.”
Claire stared.
Rebecca lifted one shoulder.
“You asked.”
A laugh escaped Claire before she could stop it.
She hated that too.
Rebecca continued.
“I also thought you looked happy.”
“We were.”
“I know.”
Claire looked out the window.
People crossed the street carrying lunch bags. A delivery driver argued with someone over a loading zone.
“Did you hate me?”
“For a while.”
“Why?”
“Because you had the version of him I wanted.”
Claire looked back.
Rebecca’s expression was calm, but her fingers had tightened around the cup.
“He was kinder after me,” she said. “At least from what I could see. More patient. Less ambitious in that frantic way. He learned things with you that I spent years asking him to learn.”
Claire said, “That doesn’t sound like a reason to hate me.”
“No. Jealousy isn’t famous for logic.”
Claire appreciated the answer.
“What happened between you?”
Rebecca sighed.
“We married too young. Then stayed married too long because admitting failure felt worse than being miserable. I wanted him to slow down. He wanted me to stop criticizing everything he did. We both became very skilled at proving the other person was the problem.”
“Did he cheat?”
“Not physically, as far as I know.”
“Did you?”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Yes.”
Claire had not expected that.
“Once?”
“For six months.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“He found out.”
“When?”
“2012.”
The separation began in 2013.
A clue.
Not an excuse.
Rebecca continued.
“I was lonely. Angry. Self-righteous. I had reasons. Reasons are not the same as permission.”
Claire thought of the slap.
“No.”
“Daniel used my affair to avoid looking at what was already wrong. I used his work obsession to justify the affair. We were extremely efficient at mutual innocence.”
Claire stirred coffee she had no intention of drinking.
“Why didn’t he just tell me that?”
“Because ‘my wife cheated and we’re separated but legally married and financially entangled’ might have sounded complicated.”
“And ‘my wife died’ was simpler.”
“Exactly.”
Rebecca’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t forgive him for what he did to you.”
“I’m not sure you get a vote.”
“I don’t.”
They sat quietly.
Claire finally said, “Are you going to fight the divorce?”
Rebecca looked at her tea.
“No.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast to be flattering.
“Because I’m tired.”
Rebecca rubbed her thumb against a paper seam in the cup.
“And because the house finally has a buyer.”
Claire blinked.
“What?”
“The Arlington property. We’ve been arguing about selling it for years. Daniel accepted an offer last week.”
Claire almost laughed.
“So all this becomes possible because the real estate market cooperated?”
“Human dignity frequently depends on closing costs.”
That one made Claire laugh.
Rebecca smiled too.
For a second they were simply two women at a coffee shop.
Then Claire remembered why.
“Did you want him back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“After we separated? Sometimes. Mostly when he seemed happy without me.”
Claire looked at her.
Rebecca did not flinch.
“That’s ugly,” Claire said.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for saying it.”
“I’m trying to stop making myself the reasonable woman in every story.”
Claire nodded.
She understood that more than she wanted to.
When they left, Rebecca stopped on the sidewalk.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“I am sorry I used that dinner to hurt him.”
Claire waited.
Rebecca continued.
“I knew you would be hurt too. I pretended that was unavoidable.”
Claire swallowed.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Rebecca almost smiled.
They walked in opposite directions.
Three weeks later, Dana called with preliminary findings.
Claire sat in her car outside the office.
“We have enough to say Daniel was still legally married to Rebecca when the ceremony with you took place,” Dana said. “What that means for each document and obligation needs to be handled carefully. Some of your joint property questions are separate from marital status. Beneficiary designations are separate. The house deed matters. Your contributions matter. There is no single switch that turns your entire shared life on or off.”
Claire closed her eyes.
She had expected catastrophe to be simpler.
“So what do I do?”
“We document. We negotiate. We correct what can be corrected. And you decide what you want personally, which is not a legal question.”
Claire looked at people crossing the parking garage.
“What if I want him to fix the divorce and then marry me legally?”
Dana paused.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
Claire had not known until she heard herself say it.
That evening Daniel asked to meet.
They chose a park near the Potomac because Claire no longer wanted him in the house.
They sat on a bench facing the water.
Daniel had lost weight.
She noticed and resented herself for noticing.
“Rebecca signed,” he said.
“The divorce papers?”
“Yes.”
Claire nodded.
“There will still be a process.”
“I know.”
“I’m also cooperating with Dana.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his palms on his trousers.
“Peter told me you spoke.”
“Yes.”
“He feels terrible.”
“I’m not managing Peter’s feelings.”
“I know.”
Claire gave him a look.
May you like
“Sorry.”
They watched a rowing shell move across the river.
