Chương 8
He raised a hand.
“I’m okay.”
She stopped.
That mattered.
She was beginning to learn that loving an injured person did not grant unlimited touching rights.
Daniel closed his eyes.
After a moment he said, “Put it away.”
“The ring?”
“Yeah.”
She did.
He did not ask about it again that day.
On the sixth day after the accident, Daniel was transferred out of neurocritical care.
On the seventh, he walked nine steps with a walker and hated everyone who witnessed it.
On the eighth, he remembered Rachel’s dog from five years earlier but still could not remember proposing to Emily.
On the ninth, his phone was returned.
That created a new kind of problem.
Daniel sat in a chair while Emily placed it on the bedside table.
He stared at the black rectangle.
“That’s mine?”
“Yes.”
“Passcode?”
She hesitated.
“0427.”
“What’s that?”
“Our anniversary.”
He looked at her.
“Which one?”
“First date.”
Daniel entered the code.
It opened.
His expression changed.
Emily felt suddenly intrusive, though she had looked through his phone after the accident to call contacts, check insurance information, and find the email with their honeymoon reservation.
“I can leave.”
Daniel shook his head.
He opened the photos app.
Thousands of images.
Emily saw his thumb stop.
There she was.
Everywhere.
Emily asleep on an airplane with her mouth open.
Emily standing in a hardware store holding two different faucets.
Emily on a beach in Maine.
Emily wearing Daniel’s coat at a football game.
Emily laughing beside Carol.
Emily holding a cardboard sign that said YES, IDIOT after his proposal.
Daniel stared at that one for a long time.
“I proposed with a sign?”
“No. I proposed with the sign.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You proposed with a ring.”
“Oh.”
“I made the sign because you had been carrying the ring around for three weeks waiting for the perfect moment, and I found the receipt.”
Daniel covered his eyes.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That’s awful.”
“You took me to dinner and kept touching your jacket pocket like you had a weapon.”
He laughed.
She continued, “So when you finally got down on one knee by the river, I already had the sign in my purse.”
“That is deeply disrespectful.”
“You loved it.”
“How do you know?”
“You cried.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You cried enough that a cyclist stopped to ask if you needed help.”
Daniel stared at her.
She smiled.
He looked back at the photograph.
There was no memory in his face.
Only evidence.
That difference became increasingly difficult for both of them.
His phone proved a life he could not always feel.
Messages showed months of ordinary intimacy.
Did you buy milk?
Running late.
Your mother called me because you ignore her.
Love you.
Lock the door.
Call me.
Don’t forget Saturday.
He read them in silence.
Then he found the argument.
Not the biggest one.
Just one from four months earlier.
Emily saw his expression change.
“What?”
Daniel turned the screen away.
“Nothing.”
She knew immediately.
“What did you read?”
“Nothing.”
“Daniel.”
He looked irritated.
“Apparently you were mad I was late.”
She remembered.
A dinner with her father.
Daniel had been forty-five minutes late because of work and had not called.
There had been seven angry texts.
Two were unfair.
One was cruel.
She had written: Sometimes being loved by you feels like being another task you’re sure can wait.
Daniel looked at her.
“Did you mean it?”
Emily sat down.
“At the time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“So we weren’t happy.”
“We were complicated.”
“People keep using that word when they mean bad.”
“Sometimes we were bad.”
Daniel locked the phone.
“Why were you going to marry me?”
“Because bad is not the same as false.”
“That sounds like something you practiced.”
“I didn’t.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
Emily stood.
“No, I have answers because you keep asking me to explain a five-year relationship like there’s going to be a test.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“There kind of is.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The sentence cut.
Emily crossed her arms.
“Stop telling me what I don’t know.”
“You know yourself. You know us. You know what I was like. I’m getting graded against a person everybody in this building already misses.”
“I don’t miss you.”
He stared.
Emily’s voice shook.
“I miss things. I miss you remembering stupid details. I miss you knowing which side of the bed you sleep on. But you’re sitting right there.”
“That’s generous.”
“It’s true.”
“I’m not him.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Everyone else does.”
“Then be mad at everyone else.”
“I am.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
They glared at each other.
Then Daniel said, “This feels familiar.”
Emily blinked.
“What?”
“Arguing with you.”
A laugh escaped her.
Daniel smiled.
For several seconds, they were both relieved.
Then Daniel looked at the locked phone.
“Was I a good man?”
The question was so quiet she almost missed it.
Emily sat again.
“You were trying.”
“That bad?”
“You could be selfish.”
He nodded.
“You got defensive when you were embarrassed. You avoided calling people when you thought they might be disappointed in you. You hated asking for help.”
“All of this tracks.”
“You were generous with money and terrible with time.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You’d pay for everyone’s dinner and then show up twenty minutes late.”
“That’s obnoxious.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you stay?”
She looked at him.
“Because you kept changing.”
Daniel was quiet.
Emily continued, “Not quickly. Not because I asked nicely. Sometimes because consequences hurt enough.”
He rubbed his thumb along the phone case.
“And now?”
“Now what?”
“Am I supposed to keep being that guy?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
She could have answered wife.
Marriage.
Home.
The plan.
Instead she said, “I want you to be honest when you don’t know.”
His eyes lifted.
“That’s it?”
“For today.”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“Okay.”
May you like
Two days later, he asked for the ring.
Emily took it from her purse.
