Chương 4
Danielle crouched in front of her.
Nathan stood behind them holding the overnight bag.
Nobody seemed to know where he belonged.
Finally Danielle looked up.
“You should go.”
Nathan nodded.
Claire lowered her hands.
“Nathan.”
He stopped.
She did not know what she had meant to say.
He waited.
Claire noticed his tie was still hanging loose around his neck. He had worn it through the police interview, the hospital, the drive. She had untied that tie for him at their anniversary dinner eight months earlier because he had spilled wine on his cuff and been too tipsy to work the knot.
She hated the memory for arriving.
“When you talked to her,” Claire said, “did you tell her you thought the baby wasn’t yours?”
Nathan’s face tightened.
“No.”
“Did you tell her you thought I cheated?”
“No.”
“Did you ask her what she thought?”
He looked away.
Danielle stood slowly.
Claire already had the answer.
Nathan said, “I told her I was scared.”
“What did you say?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“You remember.”
He put the bag down.
“I told her the timing had gotten in my head.”
“The timing.”
“You were already measuring ahead at that first appointment.”
“By four days.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
“I knew what the doctor said. I also knew what I’d been told about my numbers.”
Claire stared at him.
“You had sex with me the morning you left for Chicago.”
Danielle looked at the floor.
Nathan’s face reddened.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because apparently your mother has built a criminal defense around calendar math.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I screwed up.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. I didn’t tell her I thought you cheated. I told her I was afraid I might be stupid not to ask questions.”
There it was.
Claire sat very still.
Danielle walked into the kitchen and began opening cabinets with unnecessary force.
Nathan took a step closer.
“I never accused you because I didn’t believe it.”
“You believed it enough to tell your mother.”
“I was panicking.”
“You could have panicked with me.”
“I was ashamed.”
Claire looked down at her hands.
Nathan had always been good at shame.
He could apologize for forgetting milk as if confessing to a felony, then avoid a serious problem for months because admitting it existed felt unbearable.
She had once found six unopened letters from the state tax office in his desk drawer. The issue had turned out to be minor. His terror of opening the envelopes had nearly made it major.
She had thought it was a bad habit.
Now she wondered how much of their marriage rested on things Nathan was too ashamed to say.
“Go home,” she said.
He nodded slowly.
“Can I call you tomorrow?”
“No.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
He picked up his keys.
Danielle returned carrying a glass of water she had apparently spent two full minutes locating in her own kitchen.
Nathan looked at Claire one last time.
“I love you.”
She almost said it back.
Habit came that close.
Then the door closed.
Danielle sat beside her.
For a while they listened to the refrigerator run.
Finally Danielle said, “A stockpot?”
Claire leaned her head against the wall.
“Yes.”
“Was it a good one?”
Claire turned to her.
Danielle looked horrified.
“I’m sorry. That was terrible.”
“It was All-Clad.”
Danielle covered her mouth.
Claire laughed once.
Then she cried.
The next morning, Claire woke before six on Danielle’s couch with a blanket twisted around one ankle.
For several seconds, she did not know where she was.
Then she saw her phone on the coffee table.
Forty-three notifications.
She did not touch it.
Danielle’s apartment faced an intersection. Delivery trucks groaned through the light. Someone downstairs dragged a trash bin across concrete.
Claire lay still and watched the ceiling fan.
Her body felt normal.
That offended her.
She had expected some physical evidence that a line had been crossed.
Instead she was hungry.
She went to the kitchen and ate half a banana.
At 6:41, her phone rang.
Her obstetrician’s office.
Claire answered.
The nurse had received the hospital report and wanted to schedule a follow-up. The voice on the phone was warm without becoming intimate. It steadied Claire more than sympathy would have.
Afterward, Claire opened her messages.
There were texts from Nathan.
I’m sorry.
I’m at the house.
Police took the pot.
I gave them the security footage from outside.
My mom’s attorney called.
I didn’t speak to him.
Please tell me what you need.
Then, at 3:12 a.m.:
I found the messages between Mom and me. You should see them.
Claire stared at that one.
She typed, Send them.
The screenshots arrived less than a minute later.
There were too many.
The first was from six weeks earlier.
Nathan: Can I ask you something without you making it a thing?
Vivian: That sentence guarantees I will make it a thing.
Nathan: Serious.
Vivian: Call me.
Then later:
Nathan: Can’t talk. Claire is home.
Vivian: About her?
Nathan: Sort of.
Vivian: Nathan.
Nathan: Remember the fertility test I had?
Claire put the phone down.
Danielle came into the room rubbing sleep from one eye.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
Danielle filled the machine.
Claire picked up the phone again.
Nathan had written:
Her doctor says the due date can move based on measurements but I keep doing the math.
Vivian: What math?
Nathan: Chicago.
Vivian: You were gone almost three weeks.
Nathan: I know.
Vivian: And?
Nathan: And nothing. Forget it.
Vivian: Did she tell you something?
Nathan: No.
Vivian: Is there someone else?
Nathan: Jesus, Mom. No.
Vivian: Then what are you asking me?
Nathan: I don’t know.
The next screenshot had been sent two days later.
Vivian: I looked up what low motility means.
Nathan: Please don’t.
Vivian: Why did you tell me if you didn’t want me concerned?
May you like
Nathan: I needed to say it out loud and then hear that I was being stupid.
Vivian: You are not stupid.
