Chương 14
“I need to tell you something.”
He looked up immediately.
Rachel sat at the table.
“The lawyer emailed.”
His hands stopped.
“Okay.”
“She asked whether I want to move forward.”
Ethan set down the screwdriver.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing yet.”
He nodded.
Rachel studied him.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m thinking?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you hate that.”
She almost smiled.
“I do.”
He waited.
Rachel looked at the cabinet door hanging slightly crooked.
“Do you think we’re better?”
“Yes.”
“That was fast.”
“You asked.”
“Fair.”
He smiled.
Rachel sighed.
“I think we’re more honest.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if that means better.”
Ethan nodded.
“I think about leaving all the time.”
His face tightened, but he said nothing.
“I also think about staying.”
He looked at her.
“And I don’t know whether staying means I’m brave or stupid.”
“Probably neither.”
“What does it mean?”
“That you stayed today.”
Rachel looked at him.
The answer was annoyingly good.
“Therapy is making you irritating.”
“I know.”
She glanced at the cabinet.
“You’re destroying that hinge.”
“I know that too.”
Rachel wrote Susan:
Please keep the file open. I’m not ready to proceed, but I’m not ready to close it.
Nothing in her life became suddenly clear.
That disappointed her.
She had expected decisions to feel like doors.
Instead they felt like hallways.
In May, she and Ethan returned to Paris.
The idea came from Rachel.
That surprised both of them.
They booked separate seats in the same row.
Not first class.
Rachel insisted they pay from personal accounts.
At the airport, her stomach tightened as soon as they entered the terminal.
Ethan noticed.
“You want to leave?”
“No.”
“We can.”
“I know.”
Jordan Blake was not working their check-in area.
Rachel felt relieved and strangely disappointed.
They moved through security.
At the mezzanine, Rachel stopped.
The railing was twenty yards away.
Ethan followed her gaze.
Neither spoke.
Passengers moved around them.
A teenager slept across three chairs.
Someone argued into a phone about a rental car.
A cleaning cart beeped while reversing.
Rachel walked to the glass.
Ethan stayed several feet behind.
She looked down at the floor where she had seen him with Vanessa.
The space seemed smaller.
Less cinematic.
That irritated her.
“You stood there,” she said.
“Yes.”
“She stood there.”
“Yes.”
“I was up here.”
“Yes.”
Ethan waited.
Rachel touched the zipper of her bag.
“I thought that was the worst thing you did.”
He said nothing.
“It wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“The worst thing was making me live in a marriage you had already described differently to everyone else.”
Ethan’s eyes lowered.
“I know.”
Rachel looked at him.
“I’m not over that.”
“I know.”
“I may never be.”
He nodded.
A boarding announcement sounded behind them.
Rachel looked toward the gate.
Then at Ethan.
“I’m still going.”
His expression changed.
“To Paris?”
“For now.”
He gave a small smile.
“For now is good.”
Rachel walked ahead.
At the gate, she took out a new passport wallet.
Black.
Plain.
The burgundy one remained at home in a drawer.
Ethan noticed.
He did not comment.
On the overnight flight, Rachel slept for two hours.
Ethan slept less.
At one point she woke and found him staring at the seatback screen without watching anything.
“You okay?” she asked.
He turned.
“Yeah.”
She waited.
He smiled faintly.
“No. I’m terrified.”
“Of flying?”
“Of this trip.”
“Good.”
He laughed softly.
“You?”
“Also terrified.”
“Good.”
Rachel looked out at the dark window.
“Don’t copy me.”
“Sorry.”
She smiled.
Paris was not magical.
It rained twice.
Their hotel room was smaller than the photographs suggested.
Ethan got food poisoning the third night and spent twelve hours on the bathroom floor insisting he was fine.
Rachel brought him water and complained about the smell.
At the jazz club, they sat at a tiny table near the back.
Ethan loved it.
Rachel still did not.
Halfway through the set he leaned over.
“You hate this.”
“I have always hated this.”
“What?”
“I tolerate jazz because you look happy.”
He stared at her.
“You told me you liked it.”
“I lied.”
Ethan began laughing.
Rachel covered her mouth.
“Apparently betrayal runs both ways.”
“That is not remotely equivalent.”
“I know.”
He laughed harder.
People turned.
Rachel started laughing too.
For three minutes they were simply married.
Later, walking back to the hotel, Ethan reached for her hand.
Rachel let him take it.
At a corner she stopped.
“Do you still want children?”
Ethan looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“You told Vanessa I did not.”
“I know.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.”
He waited.
Rachel watched a cyclist pass.
“I think I do.”
Ethan’s expression softened.
She lifted one finger.
“Not with you yet.”
The softness disappeared.
“Okay.”
“That wasn’t meant to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I need to know whether we can be safe before we make someone depend on us.”
Ethan nodded.
“Okay.”
They kept walking.
At the hotel entrance he said, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think we should have a child yet either.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I still lie in therapy.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Small things.”
Her heart accelerated.
“Like what?”
“When he asks if I’m angry at you, sometimes I say no.”
Rachel exhaled.
“That’s a terrible example to give without context.”
“I know.”
“Are you angry at me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you check everything I say.”
Rachel stared.
He continued before she could answer.
“And I know why you do it. And I caused it. And I still hate it.”
Rachel looked at the hotel door.
“That’s fair.”
Ethan laughed.
“You said it.”
“Shut up.”
They went inside.
The following morning Rachel woke before him.
For several minutes she watched Ethan sleep.
He looked younger with his eyes closed.
People often said sleep made everyone innocent.
Rachel no longer believed that.
It simply made them quiet.
She got dressed and went downstairs alone.
May you like
Paris in the morning smelled like wet pavement and coffee.
Rachel bought a croissant she did not need.
