Chapter 5

Ethan rubs the back of Noah's head.

"Vanessa handles some of the household expenses."

I wait.

"She was probably talking about the bills. He overheard."

"She called my mother a waste of money."

"You don't know what she said."

"He just told you."

"He's a child, Claire. You can't take every word literally."

The red cloth is damp where it touches my palm.

I fold it over the broken pendant.

"Of course."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like everyone's against you."

He looks tired now.

As though this is another unreasonable thing I've made him deal with.

"Vanessa does a lot for this family. She's the one making sure Noah gets to school and the bills get paid."

"I used to take him to school."

"That isn't the point."

"You stopped letting me."

His mouth tightens.

Noah rests his head on Ethan's shoulder.

"I brought him here so you could spend some time together," Ethan says. "I thought you'd appreciate that."

I look around the storage room.

My clothes in trash bags.

My son in the doorway, telling me I'm stealing.

My mother's pendant in pieces.

"This was your idea of a visit?"

"I didn't know you'd turn it into a fight."

He glances toward the hall and lowers his voice.

"And don't talk about the papers in front of him. He doesn't need to hear any of that yet."

I say nothing.

He still thinks he gets to decide which parts of my life I'm allowed to name.

Noah squirms.

"I want Aunt Vanessa."

Ethan puts him down.

He runs toward the house without looking at me.

For a moment, we're alone.

Ethan's eyes drop to the cloth.

"Rosa can pack the rest."

"I don't need the rest."

"You'll need clothes."

"I have enough."

He watches me put the bundle into my bag.

At college, he used to walk backward in front of me so I'd have to look at him.

"One date."

"No."

"Coffee, then."

"That's a date."

"Only if it goes well."

I used to laugh despite myself.

He was good at that.

Making something difficult sound easy.

When I told him I was afraid of his family, he said I wasn't marrying them.

We weren't even dating yet.

He said it as though the future was already settled.

I wanted to believe him.

By graduation, I was almost ready to say yes.

Then came that night.

The hotel room.

The pregnancy.

And a version of me he decided was true before I could finish telling him what I remembered.

After the wedding, he stopped asking questions.

He told me things instead.

What I wanted.

Why I'd done it.

What kind of woman I was.

For four years, I tried to change his mind by being useful enough, patient enough, good enough with our son.

I pick up my bag.

"Claire."

I walk past him.

In the living room, Vanessa is kneeling in front of Noah.

She's smoothing his hair away from his forehead.

"There we go. All better."

He sees me and pulls away from her.

I keep walking.

Behind me, his voice rises.

"Why won't she talk to me?"

Vanessa says something softly.

"No! She's supposed to say sorry!"

I put my hand on the front door.

I have seen this happen before.

Noah pushes me away, then cries because I stop reaching.

Vanessa tells me he's upset.

Ethan tells me to fix it.

And I go back.

Every time.

My mother is waiting for a visit.

I think of sitting beside her bed, letting her complain about the food.

I could get her something on the way.

Soup from the place she likes.

I could sit there without explaining any of this tonight.

"Claire."

Ethan's voice comes from behind me.

I stop.

"Come here."

I turn.

Noah is standing beside Vanessa, his cheeks wet.

Ethan points toward him.

"You pushed him. You scared him."

I know.

I have known since he hit the floor.

"Come back and apologize to your son."