Chương 10
She didn’t.
The internet gradually found other people to punish.
Ethan began seeing a therapist.
He told nobody for three weeks, which his therapist found mildly funny.
“You understand the irony?”
“Yes.”
“You are paying someone to talk about avoidance while hiding the fact you’re doing it.”
“I said I understand.”
He disliked therapy for the first month.
He kept trying to turn feelings into management problems.
The therapist, Dr. Patel, kept refusing to participate.
“Why did you stay out of the conflict between Rose and Claire?”
“Because they’re adults.”
“That’s a principle.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the fear?”
“That they would make me choose.”
“And what happened?”
He stared at the rug.
“They made me choose.”
“Eventually.”
He hated her.
Then he paid the bill and returned the following week.
By April, Rose’s bruise was long gone.
Her relationship with Claire remained strange.
They exchanged occasional messages.
Ethan knew because Rose once asked him how to send a photograph without accidentally sharing her entire library.
“Who are you sending it to?”
“None of your business.”
“Claire?”
“Help me or leave.”
The photograph was of a lemon tree Rose had nearly killed.
Claire had apparently given her instructions for reviving it.
“You two are weird,” Ethan said.
Rose peered at her phone.
“You dated her.”
“Exactly.”
In May, Ethan saw Claire in person for the first time since the closet floor.
It happened by choice.
She texted him:
I found a box of your grandfather’s papers in the storage room. Do you want them or should I give them to Rose?
He replied:
I’ll pick them up.
Claire now lived in a rented apartment near Washington Park.
The building was ordinary by Claire’s former standards.
No doorman.
No heated driveway.
A neighbor had left a bicycle chained badly to the stair railing.
Claire opened the door wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt.
Her hair was shorter.
Ethan noticed immediately and wished he hadn’t.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The apartment smelled like coffee.
The espresso machine sat on the kitchen counter.
He pointed.
“Thief.”
Claire glanced at it.
“Prove ownership.”
He smiled.
She smiled too.
Then the distance returned.
The box of papers was near the dining table.
Ethan crouched beside it.
“Where were these?”
“Back closet. Behind winter coats.”
He opened the top.
Tax records.
Old property deeds.
Photographs of his grandfather with men in suits whose names Ethan had forgotten.
“Thanks.”
Claire leaned against the counter.
“You want coffee?”
He almost said no.
Then: “Sure.”
She used the espresso machine with practiced irritation.
“You still make it too strong,” he said.
“You still drink coffee-colored water.”
She handed him a cup.
He tasted it.
Too strong.
Good.
They sat.
For a while they talked about neutral things.
Rose’s lemon tree.
Caleb’s engagement.
A restaurant that had closed.
Ethan felt the strange ease of being with someone who knew where his sentences usually went.
Then Claire said, “My dad starts work Monday.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Where?”
“A construction consulting firm.”
“How does he feel?”
“Humiliated.”
“Probably healthy.”
She gave him a look.
“Rose would like that answer.”
“That concerns me.”
Claire wrapped both hands around her cup.
“He’s doing better.”
“Good.”
“My mother is furious with him.”
“Also probably healthy.”
“She would also like you now.”
“Terrifying.”
Claire smiled.
Then silence settled.
Ethan looked toward the window.
People were running around the park.
A dog dragged its owner toward a trash can.
Normal Saturday.
“I gave Rose the document,” Claire said.
“I know.”
“I didn’t know whether you’d want to destroy it.”
“I haven’t.”
“Why?”
He thought about it.
“Because it happened.”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No. I mean… I’m not trying to get anything from saying it anymore.”
He looked at her.
Claire’s eyes remained on her cup.
“I spent months trying to understand what part was my father, what part was Rose, what part was Larkin, what part was fear.”
“And?”
“It was easier when I could divide it.”
She looked up.
“But I signed it.”
Ethan said nothing.
“I knew you hadn’t agreed. I knew the certification wasn’t true. I planned to ask you after the wedding because I thought you’d be more likely to say yes once refusing felt like rejecting me.”
Her voice stayed steady.
“That was manipulation.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that word.”
“So do I.”
“But it’s accurate.”
“Yes.”
She breathed out.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“I already have.”
Claire froze.
Ethan surprised himself too.
He looked toward the park again.
“I don’t trust you the way I did. I don’t want to marry you. I still get angry when I think about it. But I don’t wake up wanting you punished.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
He continued.
“I think that’s forgiveness.”
She nodded slowly.
“Rose said something similar.”
“Of course she did.”
Claire laughed through her tears.
“She’s become unbearable.”
“She was always unbearable.”
“Fair.”
Ethan drank the coffee.
Claire wiped beneath one eye.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever think about coming back?”
He put the cup down.
“Yes.”
Claire looked at him.
“A lot.”
She swallowed.
“But?”
“But wanting you and trusting you are still different things.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
“Did you?”
“Think about us?”
“Yes.”
“Every day for a while.”
“And now?”
“Not every day.”
The answer stung.
He was glad she had given it.
Claire looked out the window.
“I started volunteering at a financial counseling nonprofit.”
Ethan blinked.
“That sounds dangerously symbolic.”
She laughed.
“I know. I almost didn’t tell you because it sounds like something written by a bad screenwriter.”
“Why are you doing it?”
“Because my therapist said I needed a way to be around money that wasn’t about controlling it.”
“You have a therapist?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Mine is terrible too.”
Claire stared at him.
“You’re in therapy?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“I’m enjoying this.”
He laughed.
The air loosened.
For a moment Ethan imagined staying.
Ordering dinner.
Walking around the park.
May you like
Sleeping beside her.
The vision came easily because it was built from memory.
