“Are you serious?”
He nods and his eyes settle, for a moment, on my right collarbone, where there’s a vertical scar hidden underneath myshirt. Even after he looks away I know he’s seeing it in his mind’s eye. I know because I’m seeinghisscar, long and not-so-thin, down the left side of his back.
“I guess the paramedics had put all our stuff in one box and brought it to the hospital,” he says. “Someone…I guess…got confused and stuffed his ID into my wallet.”
“You’ve…you’ve known his name this whole time?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize it was in there. I just found it. I googled him…he works in Brooklyn…Lives there too.”
I’m gripping my elbows so hard it makes my fingers ache to release them. “Is he…okay?”
“I don’t know. I think so. When I googled him, an event website for his kid’s birthday party popped up. So. Yeah. I don’t know. Looks like he’s got family.”
“Are you…are you going to contact him?”
“Look,” he says in a low voice. “I think so…And I know…things between you and me…but the anniversary is coming up and—”
He cuts off when my eyes fill and I slam my hands over my face.
Of course the accident was going to have an anniversary. It was always going to have an anniversary. It just hadn’t occurred to me that I would be marking it while Vin packed his things to leave.
Don’t you feel like someone’s just tossed you out of a plane, Vin? Isn’t there a knife in your gut? Aren’t you already homesick for me?
If he was, how could I even tell? His beard is a brick wall between him and the world. No light gets through.
“Why?” I finally ask in a low, shaky voice. “Why open all this up again? Raff is onlyjustbetter—”
I cut off because I notice his hands have tightened around the back of the chair where he’s leaning. “I’m not—I can’t—”He straightens up and jams his hands in his pockets. His eyes are closed. “Roz. This part of my life…This whole chapter…I need it to be over.”
Which part. Which chapter.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“It can’t go on like this anymore,” he continues. “I thought…maybe meeting him…could bring some closure. MaybethenI could start new. Without the bad shit. Put it all behind me. Puteverythingbehind me.”
Well, I’m not sure if I am part of the bad shit he is referring to, but I certainly fall into the category ofeverything.
I—and I hate that this is true because I would love nothing more than to be cool and calm and cold right now—am stricken.
The worst part is that I get it. The worst fucking year of his life took place in this apartment that used to be our beloved home. And he lived it right alongside me, who used to be his beloved wife. We’ve been shredded into pieces and he can’t put himself back together here. He’s basically telling me that he wants to go off and live. And what can I say?No, Vin. Stay and suffer.
I say the only word I can force out through my burning throat. “Okay.”
There’s a long silence. And then, “Do…”
I wait for as long as humanly possible for him to finish that sentence, but he can’t, or won’t. I only realize I’ve been holding my breath when it all gets exhaled on a huge whoosh.
His eyes snap to my face, stumbling over the tears, hot and thin, sliding down my cheeks. I dash them away and can’t believe my fingertips don’t come away red.
“Roz—” His hands come out of his pockets, freeze, and then slide immediately back into his pockets. He straightensup.
There was a time when, if I was crying, it was always directly into Vin’s shirt. His arms around me at the first hint of a sniffle. Back when he used to join me in the shower without a second thought. Back when he’d zip my coat up to my chin on a chilly day because it made him warmer to see me warm. Back when he’d sit me up on the kitchen counter to kiss me hello when he got home from work.
But now? Now he’s brushing drywall dust from his shirt and frowning. He’s clearing gravel from his voice, stepping toward me and then—God—directly past me. “I should shower,” he mumbles. “I’ll be right back.”
Thank goodness he’s gone because for a minute or two, I just completely crumble.Till death do us part.Or, rather,till bad stuff happens and then he can’t even be in the same room with me when I crydo us part.
I turn, taking a few deep breaths, and realize the oven is still on. I turn it off, quickly put away a few dishes from the drying rack, and then the laundry basket at the edge of the living room catches my eye.
