Chương 9
Chloe looked down.
Elena continued.
“But lying has a way of traveling.”
Chloe swallowed.
A car passed.
The baby moved beneath the blanket.
“I don't know what to do.”
Elena did not comfort her.
She could not.
Not yet.
“Figure out what you know.”
Chloe nodded slowly.
“Not what he told you. What you know.”
Another nod.
“Then decide what you're willing to live with.”
Chloe looked at Elena for a long moment.
“You already did that.”
“Yes.”
“How long did it take?”
Elena thought of years.
Clinics.
Excuses.
Eleanor opening marmalade with an oven mitt.
“Too long.”
A rideshare pulled to the curb.
Chloe checked the plate.
“This is mine.”
She opened the rear door.
Before getting in, she looked at Elena.
“I am sorry.”
Elena's first instinct was to say it didn't matter.
But it did.
So she answered honestly.
“I can't do anything with that yet.”
Chloe nodded.
“I understand.”
She got into the car.
Elena watched it disappear.
When she returned inside, Julian was sitting at the dining table with the divorce documents spread before him.
His suitcase remained where it had fallen.
He had found a pen.
“You're really letting her leave.”
Elena closed the door.
“She isn't mine to keep.”
“She has my son.”
“Yes.”
“I should go after them.”
“Then go.”
He looked at the papers.
“But you want this signed.”
“I've wanted it signed for months.”
“You could give me one night.”
Elena walked into the living room and checked the candles.
One had burned unevenly.
Wax had run down the side.
“Your mother had one hundred nights.”
He shut his eyes.
“That is cruel.”
“Yes.”
She turned.
“I know.”
The admission seemed to surprise him.
Elena sat across from him.
“I am angry enough to be cruel sometimes.”
Julian looked at her.
“I don't like it.”
“No.”
“But I'm done pretending I don't feel it because you might use it to make me the unreasonable one.”
He lowered his eyes.
For several minutes he read.
Actually read.
He asked questions.
Some Elena could answer.
Some she told him to ask his lawyer.
He objected to the proposed handling of their Manhattan apartment.
Elena expected that.
He objected to a provision regarding one joint investment account.
Expected.
He asked why she had not requested support.
“Because I don't want it.”
“You could.”
“I know.”
His mouth tightened.
“You're making a point.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I have my own income.”
“Not like mine.”
“I don't need like yours.”
“That sounds like a point.”
She looked at him.
“Everything doesn't have to be about winning.”
He gave a tired smile.
“Says the woman who met me at an airport with divorce papers.”
“Fair.”
The smile disappeared.
He looked down again.
At six fifteen, he called his attorney.
The conversation lasted forty minutes.
Elena went into the kitchen and ate half a piece of toast while Julian argued about language.
She was surprised by how hungry she was.
At one point she heard him say, “No, I understand what it means.”
Then, five minutes later, “Explain that again.”
She nearly laughed.
Eleanor would have.
By seven, Julian returned to the dining room.
“I need revisions.”
“Send them.”
“You're not fighting me?”
“If they're reasonable.”
“What if they're not?”
“Then I'll fight.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
He looked toward the portrait.
The candles had burned lower.
“Can I take Mom tonight?”
Elena's hand tightened around her coffee cup.
The reaction embarrassed her.
They were his mother's ashes.
Of course he could ask.
“She wanted them divided.”
“What?”
“She left instructions.”
Julian stared.
“Why?”
“One part with you.”
He looked down.
“One with her sister in Connecticut.”
“And the rest?”
Elena hesitated.
“What?”
“She wanted some scattered at Flushing Meadows.”
Julian blinked.
Then he laughed.
A real laugh.
It startled Elena.
“She hated that park.”
“No, she hated parking there.”
“No. She hated the whole place.”
“She took walks there.”
“To complain.”
Elena smiled before she could stop herself.
Julian saw it.
For a moment they were two people who loved the same dead woman.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
“I'll talk to the estate attorney,” he said.
“Good.”
He folded the divorce papers into the clear sleeve.
“I can't sign tonight.”
Elena had expected anger.
Instead she felt relief.
“Fine.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“That's it?”
“I want you to sign because you're ready to end this legally. Not because you're in shock.”
He studied her.
“You're being kind.”
“Don't make too much of it.”
A shadow of the old smile appeared.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Elena almost told him not to call her that.
She decided she didn't care.
Julian put on his jacket.
The letter from Eleanor made a faint rectangle inside the breast pocket.
He lifted his suitcase.
At the door, he stopped.
“Did she ask for me?”
Elena looked at him.
He already knew.
Still, humans asked questions whose answers they knew because sometimes pain required repetition before it felt real.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
Elena shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You count everything.”
“Not that.”
He looked toward the floor.
“Was she angry?”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed.
“And?”
Elena thought carefully.
“She loved you.”
His face broke.
He turned away before she could see more.
Elena let him.
After a moment he opened the door.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked.
He looked back.
“A hotel.”
“Chloe?”
“I don't know.”
Elena nodded.
Julian gripped the suitcase handle.
“Do you hate me?”
She considered the question.
Outside, the streetlights had come on.
“No.”
That seemed to surprise him more than yes would have.
“I hate things you did.”
He waited.
“I don't know what I feel about you yet.”
He nodded slowly.
“That's worse.”
“For you?”
“For me.”
Elena almost said good.
She didn't.
Julian left.
The old key remained in the lock from the inside.
Elena noticed after he was gone.
He had forgotten to take it.
May you like
She removed it and placed it on the small hallway table.
For several minutes she stood there listening to the house.
