Chương 11
“What’s wrong?”
She whispered, “I forgot her voice.”
Ethan sat up.
Sophie climbed onto the edge of the mattress.
“I can remember what she said. But I can’t hear it.”
He did not tell her that was normal.
He did not tell her memory returned unpredictably.
He did not say anything designed to solve grief.
Instead he asked, “Do you want to hear her?”
Sophie looked at him.
He had one voicemail.
Leah left it six years ago after they argued about the locket.
Ethan had kept it on an old phone, then transferred the audio file twice across new devices.
He had never listened to it around anyone.
He found the file.
“Your mom is angry in this.”
Sophie nodded.
“That’s okay.”
He played it.
Leah’s voice filled the dark room.
“Ethan, I’m not arguing about jewelry for an infant. The locket is beautiful. That isn’t the point. Stop sending things instead of making decisions. Sophie doesn’t need silver. She needs adults who can live with themselves. Call me when you’re ready to have the actual conversation.”
The message ended.
Sophie was silent.
Then she smiled.
“She sounds like Aunt Dana.”
Ethan laughed quietly.
“She did.”
“Play it again.”
He did.
On the third time Maya appeared in the doorway rubbing one eye.
“What are you doing?”
“Listening to my mom.”
Maya climbed onto the bed.
They played the message again.
Maya frowned.
“She was mad at you.”
“Yes.”
“A lot of people are mad at you.”
“Yes.”
Sophie leaned against the headboard.
For the first time, she looked almost pleased by that fact.
In October, Rachel asked Ethan to meet for coffee.
Not the house.
Not his apartment.
Neutral territory.
They sat outside a café because every table inside was occupied by people working on laptops.
Rachel wore a sweater Ethan had bought her three Christmases earlier.
He tried not to notice.
“I spoke to a divorce attorney,” she said.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Looking calm when I know you’re not.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Better?”
“A little.”
A bus passed.
Rachel watched it.
“The attorney explained everything.”
“I’m sure.”
“Property. Custody. Support. The house.”
He waited.
“I haven’t filed.”
Ethan looked at her.
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
“Do not make that face.”
“What face?”
“Hope.”
He looked down.
“I’m trying to decide whether staying would be an act of courage or an act of fear.”
He did not answer.
“Good,” she said.
“I’m learning.”
She stirred coffee she had not sweetened.
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
Rachel glared.
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
That made her laugh.
It surprised both of them.
Ethan smiled.
She shook her head.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“I miss you.”
His smile vanished.
Rachel looked at the street.
“I hate missing you.”
“I miss you too.”
“I know.”
He stared.
She smiled without looking at him.
“That one is allowed.”
They sat in silence.
Then Rachel said, “I don’t want you home yet.”
“I understand.”
“But I’d like to have dinner.”
“When?”
“With you. Not as parents.”
He stared at her.
Rachel became irritated.
“Say something.”
“Yes.”
“That was terrible.”
“Yes, I would like that.”
“Better.”
Their first dinner was awkward.
They talked too much about Maya.
Then about Sophie.
Then about Rachel’s museum fundraiser.
They avoided the affair until dessert.
Finally Rachel put down her fork.
“Did you ever take Leah to a restaurant like this?”
Ethan answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Rachel nodded.
“Okay.”
“You want to know where?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He let it go.
Five minutes later she said, “Where?”
He told her.
She hated the place immediately.
They continued dating.
That was what Rachel called it, though both found the word embarrassing after eight years of marriage.
Sometimes they went well.
Sometimes Rachel became angry halfway through an ordinary conversation because Ethan said a phrase he had apparently also used in an email to Leah seven years earlier.
Sometimes Ethan became defensive.
Once he said, “How long am I going to be on trial?”
Rachel stood from the restaurant table, placed twenty dollars beside her untouched pasta, and left.
He did not follow.
The next morning he texted:
That was unfair. I’m sorry.
She responded:
Yes.
They did not speak for three days except about Maya.
Trust did not improve because Ethan apologized correctly.
It improved because he did boring things repeatedly.
He showed Rachel account statements before she asked.
He told her when Dana called.
He admitted when he was ashamed instead of converting shame into useful tasks.
He stopped saying he was working late when he meant he wanted to be alone.
Rachel noticed each small change and resented having to notice.
By winter, Sophie had moved permanently into Dana’s apartment.
Her old house sold.
On closing day, Dana took her back one final time.
Ethan came.
Rachel did not.
The rooms were empty except for dust lines where furniture had stood.
Sophie walked through each one.
In the kitchen she opened the cabinet that had held glasses.
Nothing.
She closed it.
Upstairs she sat on the floor of her old room.
Milton beside her.
Ethan sat several feet away.
Dana leaned in the doorway.
After a while Sophie said, “I don’t remember the last thing I said to her.”
Dana covered her mouth.
Ethan stared at the floor.
Sophie continued.
“I remember she said hurry up or we’d be late.”
Dana nodded.
“She was always saying that.”
“But I don’t remember what I said.”
“You probably complained,” Dana said.
Sophie smiled faintly.
“What if I was mean?”
“You were six.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t mean.”
Dana walked over and sat beside her.
“I was mean to her the last time I saw her.”
Sophie looked up.
“What did you say?”
Dana hesitated.
“I told her she was being controlling.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
That surprised Sophie.
“Then why are you sad?”
“Because being right doesn’t make something the last thing you wanted to say.”
May you like
Sophie leaned against her.
Ethan looked away.
