Chapter 4
For years, he had trained me not to question him.
Now I had finally learned the lesson, and somehow he did not like the result.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
He watched me carefully.
“You usually have questions.”
“I don’t tonight.”
His mouth tightened.
For one strange moment, I thought he might stay.
I think part of him wanted the familiar argument.
He wanted me to ask where he was going so he could be offended.
He wanted me to be suspicious so he could call me suspicious.
He wanted me to accuse him so he could make my behavior the subject instead of his.
Without my questions, there was nothing for him to push against.
At 9:56, he put on his coat.
He opened the mudroom door.
“Don’t wait up.”
He had said those words hundreds of times.
I looked directly at him.
“I won’t.”
Something moved across his face.
Not guilt.
Not yet.
Confusion.
Then the door closed.
The garage opened.
His car backed down the driveway.
And I stood alone in the kitchen.
For several minutes, I did nothing.
Then I cleaned.
I washed both plates.
I put the leftover chicken into a glass container.
I wiped the counters.
I loaded the dishwasher.
And finally, I stood beneath the little lamp above the sink.
My hand rested on the switch.
That light had once been love.
Somewhere along the way, it had become evidence of how certain Mark was that I would always be there.
Always waiting.
Always worrying.
Always forgiving things before I knew exactly what I was forgiving.
I switched it off.
The kitchen went dark.
Upstairs, I climbed into bed.
I expected to cry until morning.
Instead, I stared at the ceiling and thought about the woman who hated Wednesdays.
Then I thought about Mark.
Wherever he was at that moment, he had chosen to be there.
That sentence hurt.
But unlike his excuses, it was simple.
And because it was simple, I could finally believe it.
Somehow I slept.
When Mark came home at 2:08, he smelled faintly of a perfume I did not own.
“Claire?”
I said nothing.
After several minutes, he lay down beside me.
He stayed awake longer than I did.
The next morning, I found him sitting at the kitchen table before I came downstairs.
Mark was rarely up before me unless he had an early meeting.