Chapter 4 - The Confession He Had Already Rehearsed
He lowered himself into the chair across from me and set his keys down on the table between us — the way someone sets something down when they want to be able to grab it and run.
"I was going to tell you," he said.
"When?"
"When the time was right."
"The time was right five years ago." I studied his face, clear in a way it hadn't been in years — the surgery had left my night vision sharper than it had ever been, even before the disease took it. "Or four years ago, before Sophie was even born. Or three. Or two. Or last year. There were a lot of right times, Marcus. You skipped every single one."
"I know."
"Tell me about her mother."
He stared at the table like the answer might be written there. "Her name is Renee."
"How did you meet her?"
"A work conference. Before we got married."
"And you never actually ended it."
"I tried. Twice." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Then Renee told me she was pregnant, and I — I couldn't just disappear on that."
"But you could disappear on telling me."
"I didn't want to lose you."
I let the words sit there in the dark kitchen for a second.
"You didn't want to lose me," I repeated slowly. "So instead you kept a second family in another city for five years, parked the other woman's car in our garage, and counted on the fact that I was going blind to make sure I'd never find any of it."
He flinched like I'd slapped him.
"Say it," I said. "Say that part out loud, Marcus."
"That's not — I never thought of it that way."
"Then how did you think of it?"
"I thought of it as keeping things separate. Protecting everyone."
"Protecting everyone." I got up and walked to the counter, my back to him, because I couldn't look at his face while I said the next part. "Sophie wrote you a note. She practiced the letters until she got them right. She loves you. Does she even know you have a wife? Does she know her dad goes home every night to a woman who thought she was the only one?"
"She's four. She doesn't understand any of —"
"She will." I turned around to face him. "One day she will understand every bit of it. And when she does, she's going to ask Renee why her father kept two families running at the same time. And Renee is going to have to answer that. And Sophie is going to have to carry it for the rest of her life." I looked at him hard. "You didn't protect anybody, Marcus. You protected yourself. That's the whole story."
He didn't say anything for a long moment.
"What do you want me to do?" he finally asked.
"I want one honest answer. Just one."
He nodded slowly.
"If the surgery had never worked — if I'd stayed blind the rest of my life — were you ever planning to tell me? Ever?"
He looked down at his hands on the table. He didn't answer.
His keys were still sitting between us. I reached out and pushed them back toward him.
"You should go," I said. "Tonight."
"Where am I supposed to go, exactly?"
"I'm guessing Renee has a spare room."
He stood up slowly. He picked up the keys. He looked at me like he was waiting for something — tears, maybe, or anger, or a door left open a crack. I didn't give him any of it.
"I'm calling a lawyer in the morning," I said. "You should do the same."
He walked toward the front door. His hand landed on the handle, and he stopped there.
"I do love you," he said. "I need you to know that."
I looked at him — really looked, both eyes working, clear as they'd ever been. "I believe that you believe that," I said. "That's the saddest part of this whole thing."
The door shut behind him. I stood alone in the kitchen. The microwave clock read 12:14. The house had never felt so quiet.
Then my phone buzzed against the table.
May you like
A text, from a number I didn't recognize.
We need to talk. I know things about Marcus you don't. Please don't hang up if I call.
