Chương 7
“Did you push him?”
“He was blocking the door.”
“Did you tell your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t it in your statement?”
“Because I didn’t want to spend three pages explaining one sentence.”
Margaret pressed her lips together.
Olivia looked exhausted. “Say it.”
“I am not going to say anything.”
“You think the judge will believe him.”
“I think his attorney will use every omission.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Olivia walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She stared inside without taking anything.
Margaret remained at the table with Ethan’s affidavit. Its language was calm, regretful, and precise. He described himself as a husband struggling to support a wife in crisis. He said Margaret had interfered in the marriage because of longstanding hostility toward him. He attached a photograph from the previous year in which Olivia was crying in a parked car while Ethan held both her wrists.
Margaret had never seen the photograph.
Olivia returned with a jar of mustard and set it on the counter.
“What are you doing?” Margaret asked.
“I wanted yogurt.”
“The yogurt is on the top shelf.”
Olivia looked at the mustard as if someone else had placed it in her hand.
Margaret stood, retrieved the yogurt, and handed it to her without comment.
Olivia sat. “That picture was after the second miscarriage.”
Margaret waited.
“I wanted to get out of the car while he was driving. He pulled over. I opened the door before he stopped. He grabbed me.”
“Who took the picture?”
“Diane.”
“She was there?”
“She was following us home from the hospital.”
“Why did she photograph it?”
“She said she was trying to use the flash to get Ethan’s attention.”
Margaret looked at the image again. Diane’s explanation might be true. It might also be one of those small acts people performed before they had decided what version of themselves they would need later.
Olivia peeled back the yogurt lid. “I did lose control that day.”
“You had lost a pregnancy.”
“That does not make every dangerous thing I did harmless.”
“No.”
“I hate when people say abuse victims are perfect. I wasn’t perfect. I threw his phone once. I called him cruel. I told him I wished I had married someone else.”
“None of that gave him permission to hurt you.”
“I know. But when I read his statement, I can hear the parts that are true.”
“That is why he used them.”
Olivia ate one spoonful of yogurt. “What if the judge hears them too?”
“Then the judge hears them.”
“And if it matters?”
“It may.”
Olivia stared at her. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“I do not know what the judge will decide.”
For a moment, anger flashed in Olivia’s face. Then something quieter replaced it.
“Thank you,” she said.
Margaret was not sure whether she meant the uncertainty or the honesty.
Three days later, Ethan’s command representative called Olivia. The conversation lasted twenty-two minutes. Afterward, she sat on the stairs with the phone in her lap.
“What happened?” Margaret asked.
“They placed him in temporary quarters.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere near his office.”
“That is appropriate.”
“He has been removed from his project.”
Margaret said nothing.
“He might lose his promotion.”
“That decision is not yours.”
Olivia looked up sharply. “Stop saying that.”
Margaret sat two steps below her. “What should I say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”
They remained there while the heating system clicked on beneath the floor.
Olivia rubbed her belly. “He worked for that promotion for six years.”
“And?”
“I was there for all of it. The late nights, the moves, the dinners where I had to remember everyone’s spouse and pretend I understood procurement schedules. When he got selected, he held me in the kitchen and cried.”
Margaret watched a thin line of dust along the baseboard.
“If he loses it,” Olivia said, “part of my life disappears too.”
“You do not have to pretend that feels good.”
“It should.”
“No.”
“He hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“I should want him punished.”
“You want several things.”
Olivia looked toward the front window. “I want him to be the man from the kitchen.”
Margaret’s throat tightened.
“I don’t think that man was fake,” Olivia continued. “That’s the part no one understands. He wasn’t pretending every second. He loved me. Sometimes he loved me well.”
Margaret rested her forearms on her knees. “People are not false only because they are dangerous.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
“That does not make the danger smaller,” Margaret added.
“I know.”
The doorbell rang.
Diane stood outside in the same cream coat she had worn to the hospital. She carried no box this time.
Margaret opened the door only halfway.
“I need to speak with Olivia,” Diane said.
“Her attorney has asked that communication remain in writing.”
“I am not here as Ethan’s representative.”
“That has not been clear.”
Diane’s gaze shifted past Margaret. Olivia stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Let her in,” Olivia said.
Margaret stepped aside.
Diane entered and looked around the townhouse. Her eyes took in the narrow hall, the umbrella stand, the framed military photographs, and the shoes Olivia had left beneath the radiator. She removed her gloves finger by finger.
“I will make coffee,” Margaret said.
“No,” Olivia replied. “Stay.”
They sat in the living room. Diane chose the chair nearest the door. Olivia settled on the sofa with a pillow behind her ribs. Margaret remained standing until Olivia looked at her pointedly, then sat at the far end.
Diane folded her gloves. “Ethan is not permitted to contact you.”
“I know.”
“He asked me not to come.”
Olivia’s expression did not change.
“He believes anything I say will be used against him,” Diane continued. “He may be right.”
“Why are you here?”
Diane looked down at her hands. “He is not doing well.”
May you like
Margaret felt Olivia tense.
“He is eating,” Diane added quickly. “He is safe. I do not mean that kind of not well. He is ashamed. He is angry. Mostly with himself.”
