Chương 8
Their marriage improved in increments too small to announce.
Ethan stopped sleeping in the guest room after twelve nights.
The first night back, he lay on his side without touching Claire.
She listened to him breathe.
At two in the morning, she reached across the bed and put her hand on his wrist.
He turned his palm upward.
Nothing else happened.
It was enough.
Three days later they argued over whether Noah needed another blanket in the stroller.
A week after that Claire got angry because Ethan had told his assistant to cancel her car service without asking because he thought the driver had been careless.
“You cannot solve anxiety by controlling transportation.”
“I wasn’t controlling transportation.”
“You literally controlled transportation.”
“The driver ran a red light.”
“He rolled a right turn.”
“With Noah in the car.”
Claire stared at him.
Then she softened.
“That scared you.”
“Yes.”
“You can say that before reorganizing everyone’s life.”
Ethan looked annoyed.
“I liked you better when you thought I was emotionally repressed.”
“I still think that.”
“Good.”
Ordinary irritation felt luxurious.
Victoria did not see Noah for seven weeks.
She asked.
Ethan said no.
She asked again.
He said not yet.
On the third request she did something unusual.
She stopped asking.
That bothered him more.
“She’s waiting me out.”
Claire looked up from her book.
“Maybe.”
“She thinks I’ll feel guilty.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then she knows you.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
“Do you think I’m punishing her?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You didn’t even think about that.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for seven weeks.”
He sighed.
“Do you think it’s wrong?”
“No.”
“Those are different answers.”
“They’re supposed to be.”
Ethan rubbed his hands together.
“I don’t want to use Noah as leverage.”
“Then don’t.”
“What does that look like?”
“It looks like deciding whether she is safe to be around him, not whether she has suffered enough.”
He was quiet.
“Do you think she’s safe?”
“Physically? Yes.”
“Emotionally?”
Claire closed the book.
“I think your mother loves Noah.”
“That was not the question.”
“I know.”
He waited.
“I think Victoria believes loving someone gives her permission to decide reality for them.”
Ethan looked down.
“And until she understands that it doesn’t, I wouldn’t leave her alone with him.”
He nodded.
“That’s where I am too.”
The conversation with Victoria happened at her house, not theirs.
Ethan chose that deliberately.
He did not want the repaired wall behind him.
The plasterer had come the previous week, sanded the damage, repainted the section, and left a faint smell of fresh paint in the hallway for two days.
No ceremony.
No symbolism.
Just an invoice.
Victoria received Ethan in the library.
The room had belonged more to Richard than to anyone else. His books remained on the shelves. His reading glasses still sat inside the top drawer of the desk because Victoria had never figured out what to do with them.
She offered Ethan a drink.
“No.”
“Coffee?”
“No.”
She sat.
He remained standing until she said, “You’re making me nervous.”
That surprised him.
He sat across from her.
“Good.”
She accepted the pettiness without comment.
For a minute neither spoke.
Then Victoria said, “I’m sorry.”
Ethan looked toward the windows.
“I knew you’d say that.”
“I considered not saying it because I knew you’d react like that.”
“That would have been worse.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You don’t get to apologize generally.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her expression tightened.
“I sent you something designed to make you believe Claire had betrayed you and Noah was not yours.”
“Yes.”
“I knew it would hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I believed the immediate damage could be repaired once I stopped the records release.”
Ethan stared at her.
“There.”
“What?”
“That part.”
Victoria waited.
“You thought you could control the damage later.”
“Yes.”
“Because you’ve always thought that.”
She looked away.
“If people know what you know, when you know it, you can manage how much they hurt.”
“That is an ugly way to put it.”
“It’s an ugly thing.”
Her gaze returned to him.
“Yes.”
He had prepared himself for resistance.
Agreement left him with nowhere to push.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was sixteen?”
“Because Richard asked me not to.”
“You agreed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She took time before answering.
“Because you loved him.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“What else?”
Victoria folded her hands.
“Because I was afraid you would look at me and see only what I had done.”
Ethan let that sit.
At last she had named something that belonged to her rather than Richard.
“And now?”
“Now you do.”
He looked at his mother.
The answer should have satisfied him.
It didn’t.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
Her eyes filled.
He hated how quickly his body reacted to her sadness.
Some part of him was still a boy who could not tolerate seeing his mother cry.
He looked at Richard’s desk.
“Tell me about Thomas.”
Victoria’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was he like when nobody was opening a hotel?”
A breath almost became a laugh.
“He was chronically late.”
“I’m never late.”
“No.”
“He hated olives.”
“I hate olives.”
Victoria looked at him.
Ethan regretted saying it.
Then decided not to.
“What else?”
“He read the end of novels first.”
“That’s insane.”
“I told him so.”
“What did he do when he was angry?”
Victoria’s expression became distant.
“Walked.”
“Walked where?”
“Anywhere. Around the block. Through airports. Once he walked six miles in Chicago because Richard insulted a design in front of a client.”
Ethan smiled despite himself.
“Did Dad know?”
“That he walked?”
“That you loved him.”
Victoria looked down.
“I don’t know if love is the word.”
“Don’t do that.”
Her eyes lifted.
“You had a child with him.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t reduce it now because it makes the story cleaner.”
May you like
Victoria took a breath.
“I loved parts of him.”
