Chương 9
“That we had a personal relationship that could create a conflict.”
“Did you tell him it ended?”
“I don’t know if it has.”
Rachel stared.
Ethan’s face changed immediately.
“I mean I don’t know what Vanessa considers it. I haven’t spoken to her since the airport.”
“You don’t know if your affair has ended.”
“That came out wrong.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want, Ethan?”
“You.”
The answer was immediate.
Rachel almost flinched.
“Do not do that.”
“What?”
“Make me the answer because everything else exploded.”
“I’m not.”
“You wanted to leave me six months ago.”
“I thought I did.”
“You told another woman I was essentially gone.”
“I know.”
“You booked Paris with her.”
“I know.”
“Then I caught you.”
“I know.”
“And now you want me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Rachel waited.
His eyes filled.
He looked down and rubbed one thumb across the other.
Finally he said, “Because I came home Monday and you weren’t there.”
Rachel stared.
He gave a small broken laugh.
“I know how terrible that sounds.”
“It sounds honest.”
“I walked in and the house felt…” He stopped. “I kept thinking about stupid things. Your shoes by the stairs. The cereal you hate that I buy. That little blue bowl you always leave your earrings in.”
Rachel looked away.
“I realized I had spent months imagining leaving the hard parts and none of the actual parts.”
“Don’t romanticize my cereal.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Probably.”
He wiped one eye quickly.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Rachel’s voice softened despite herself.
“That has been obvious.”
He laughed once.
The laugh nearly ruined her.
For a moment he was Ethan again.
Not Ethan the liar.
Not Ethan at the airport.
Just the man who once got drunk at Leah’s wedding and insisted on dancing with Rachel’s ninety-year-old grandmother because no one else would.
The man who slept with his hand flat against her back.
The man who knew she hated the skin on warmed milk.
The man who cheated in Chicago, lied to Vanessa, lied to Mark, lied to his brother, invented a separation, and boarded a trip using the seat meant for his wife.
Both men sat in front of her.
That was the problem.
“I don’t know whether I can forgive you,” Rachel said.
Ethan looked up.
“I know.”
“I also don’t know whether I want to.”
His face tightened.
She continued.
“And I’m not making that decision because you’re suddenly scared.”
“I understand.”
“No. You’re going to want updates. You’re going to ask what I’m thinking. You’re going to try to improve fast enough that I can tell you what happens.”
He said nothing.
“I can’t manage your panic.”
“I won’t ask.”
“You will.”
He looked down.
“Probably.”
Rachel almost smiled.
“Stay at Mark’s for now.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
Before he left, he walked into the kitchen and stood looking at the tomato plants through the window.
“They need water.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“They’re dead.”
“They’re not dead.”
“They’re brown.”
“The stems are still green.”
“Ethan.”
“Sorry.”
Rachel stared at him.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
He laughed too.
For ten seconds they stood in their kitchen laughing about dead tomato plants during a separation neither had agreed to call a separation.
Rachel started crying first.
Ethan stopped laughing.
He did not approach her.
That mattered.
She wiped her face.
“Go.”
He nodded.
At the door he asked, “Can I water them?”
Rachel looked outside.
“Fine.”
He went around the house.
Rachel watched through the kitchen window while her husband watered plants neither of them believed would recover.
Friday morning, Vanessa emailed.
Not texted.
Emailed.
The formality made Rachel nervous before she opened it.
Vanessa wrote that she had reported the relationship to human resources because she and Ethan worked within the same reporting organization. She did not ask Rachel to do anything. She said she had requested reassignment and would cooperate with whatever review followed.
At the bottom she wrote:
I also need to correct something. I told you he started talking to me in January. That is true. I did not tell you I knew he was married before he said you were separated. I did. I should have walked away until I knew more. I didn’t. I’m not sending this because I want forgiveness.
Rachel read the email twice.
Then she wrote:
Why are you telling me?
Vanessa answered an hour later.
Because I am tired of deciding which version makes me look less stupid.
Rachel understood that too well.
They met the following Tuesday in a coffee shop neither woman normally used.
Rachel arrived early.
Vanessa arrived earlier.
She stood when Rachel approached, then seemed unsure whether a handshake would be grotesque.
Rachel sat.
Vanessa sat too.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Finally Vanessa said, “I ordered coffee and now I’m too nauseous to drink it.”
Rachel glanced at the cup.
“What did you get?”
“Vanilla latte.”
“That might be the problem.”
Vanessa laughed unexpectedly.
Then looked guilty for laughing.
Rachel disliked the guilt more than the laugh.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Act like I’m going to grade your facial expressions.”
Vanessa looked down.
“Sorry.”
“You say sorry a lot.”
“Recently.”
They sat with the noise of the espresso machine between them.
Up close, Vanessa looked more tired than she had at the airport. There were faint shadows under her eyes. No makeup except mascara. A chipped thumbnail.
Rachel had expected to feel hatred.
Instead she felt alert.
That was worse in a different way.
“When did you know he was married?” Rachel asked.
“Before anything happened. Everybody at work knew.”
“And you still met him outside work.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vanessa folded the paper sleeve from her coffee cup.
“He was easy to talk to.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“No.”
Rachel waited.
Vanessa stared at the cardboard in her fingers.
“My fiancé left last year.”
May you like
Rachel said nothing.
“He moved out while I was visiting my mom. We’d been together five years. He left a note on the counter because apparently that’s still something adults do.”
