Chapter 4
When Ethan came home after the funeral, he asked why I hadn't waited before noticing Dad's photographs spread across the dining table.
Leah was upstairs packing for her flight the next day.
I slipped a photograph into an envelope and told him I had received his message. I simply hadn't wanted to stay at the funeral home any longer.
"You could have replied."
He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair.
"Vanessa cried all the way back. She was only trying to be kind."
I pressed the envelope shut without answering.
He pulled out the chair opposite mine and sat down, as though we could finally deal with an inconvenient problem.
"You should message her. People saw what happened, and she hadn't done anything to deserve being asked to leave."
"I told you beforehand not to bring her."
"I can't pretend she doesn't exist because you don't want to see anyone lately."
I looked up at him.
He hadn't forgotten what I asked.
He had simply never considered it something he needed to respect.
"Do you think you should have come to the hospital the night Dad died?"
Ethan rubbed a hand over his face.
"How many times are we going to discuss this? She'd just gotten divorced. Everyone was trying to comfort her, and I thought your sister..."
"You knew Leah wasn't there. You were the one who told everyone she'd arrived."
He glanced toward the stairs before lowering his voice.
"I didn't want everyone panicking. How am I supposed to talk to you when you put the worst possible interpretation on everything I do?"
I had believed that if I explained the facts clearly enough, he would understand.
But he wouldn't even honestly acknowledge a night neither of us could change.
How could I expect him to take my future needs seriously?
I gathered the remaining photographs.
"I'm not messaging Vanessa today."
He stood, saying we would talk when I was calmer, then went upstairs to shower.
Once I heard the water running, I put Dad's photographs in my bag and took my identification and prenatal records from the drawer.
Leah saw me open a suitcase and came over to help pack my clothes.
Before leaving for work the next morning, Ethan told me to think about what I would say to Vanessa.
We would talk again that evening.
I didn't answer, and once his car had pulled out of the driveway, my sister and I carried the luggage downstairs.
On my last trip into the bedroom, I slipped off my wedding ring and placed it in the tray where he left his watch every evening.
Once, standing there, he had slid it back onto my finger, telling me I always forgot to put it on again after cooking.
This time, I left it there, picked up my bag, and closed the door behind me.
As I reached the car, a message arrived from Ethan.
[I hope you've thought this through by the time I get home tonight.]
I fastened my seat belt without replying.
When he came home and put down his watch, he would find my answer.