Chapter 4

Whatever color was left in my face went out of it.

Three years ago Julian put his car into a guardrail with Victoria in the passenger seat. I threw myself over her, and a length of glass went straight through my knee.

She took Julian to the hospital. He was only unconscious. She left me there.

By the time anyone got to me it was too late for the joint to heal properly. Every time the weather turns wet it breaks down again and the pain goes into the bone. Six months in recovery cost me my job.

Victoria never believed I'd been hurt at all, because she never came to see me. Not once.

Later, when I told her — happy about it, actually happy — that I'd found steady work again and could finally carry some of the weight at home, she couldn't even look at me without sneering.

Then came the night the old injury flared so badly I couldn't lie still. I called her over and over. I sent everything I had.

What came back was one transfer after another. And a voice note from Julian.

"Sorry about this, man. Vicky's in the kitchen making me something for the hangover."

That was the night I broke. I put my fists through half the apartment, tore up our marriage license, and screamed at her.

"Why won't you answer me? Why do you just keep sending money? What is that supposed to mean?"

She smiled. "Isn't that what you wanted? What, is it not enough?"

I could barely get the words out. "If you hate me this much, why did you marry me? Why won't you divorce me?"

She only laughed. Daniel, she said, you've been playing this part so long you've started believing it yourself. Don't con yourself too.

After that night I stopped talking much.

Back at the table, Victoria's aunt Marianne laughed and glanced toward Julian.

"Mother, you're looking in the wrong direction. What's he ever going to do for her? Julian's the one to bet on. Good family, and he's built something himself. He's the kind of partner who'll actually move her career."

Julian lowered his eyes, modest and perfectly timed.

Victoria frowned suddenly. "Don't start. Julian's like a little brother to me."

Marianne put a hand over her mouth. "Of course he is. A very special little brother. I still have the love poems you wrote him when you were girls."

"I was a child, I didn't know what I—"

My stomach turned over and I couldn't sit there another second. I stood up too fast and caught the edge of a bone china dish.

It hit the floor and shattered.

Every face at that table turned to me with the same expression.

"I'm sorry." My voice wasn't steady. I made for the door.

"Daniel."

Victoria caught up with me on the porch, her face dark.

"You've forgotten how to walk now? What's the game this time? If you're actually sick, go to a hospital. Don't stand around here performing."

I opened my mouth.

I was going to tell her. In a few days you'll be free of me.

Before I could get it out, a sound came from inside the house, louder than anything I had left in me.

"Victoria!" Julian, crying out like he was holding back agony. "I cut my hand on the china. It really hurts—"

Her face changed instantly and she was already turning back. "Don't touch anything else, do you hear me?"

She didn't bother to hide what was in her voice.

I stood under the porch light with the cold going straight through my shirt, and the place in my chest that had been torn open so many times didn't hurt the way I expected.

There was nothing there anymore. Just numbness.