“Probably.” I take James’s free hand, squeeze it. “I have to admit, he didn’t look like such a threat to me, just watching him on his own. He’s a sad and desperate man. Is there nothing the two of you can do to fix your relationship? This can’t just be about the money.”
“After everything with Claire…do you reckon you can fix that?”
“Claire’s not here. It’s not the same. Isn’t there anyth—”
James lets go of my hand and looks away. “No. It’s too late.”
In the distance of his gaze is a solid resoluteness that tells me,family or no, once James is done, he’s done for good. It scares me a little. How close am I to crossing a line I can’t come back from?
“What do we do?” I ask.
“I’ve checked—I’ll have enough from selling some cuff links and a few other things my dad gave me to make the fifteen thousand. It means…It means clearing out the savings we’ve been trying to rebuild, but I should be able to settle with Will within the week.”
Another setback.
“What if he asks for more?”
“I don’t know.”
We become two playhouse dolls, silent and still on the sofa. James stirs first.
“It would give me peace of mind if we could start sharing our location with each other,” he says. “It’s easy enough to do on Maps. And before you start”—he’s right; I was about to start—“I know I say couples who do that are insecure, but Will’s making these threats and…and…” And there’s a lot he’s not saying. “Please?”
Protests wither in my mouth before they have a chance to sprout. I know what he’s thinking. That I’m reckless and need minding. That I’m not the tough fighter we thought I was and need protection. He’s not entirely wrong.
“Okay,” I acquiesce. “But how do we stop him from holding this over our heads for the rest of our lives?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. I realize, with horror, that tears are building. “Nat, I don’t know. Short of him drinking himself into an early grave, I don’t see how this ever ends.”
36
Now
Dimple
It’s a murky sky outside this evening, already darkening into a depressed gray. I have been working up courage for today’s session. I’m not afraid, exactly, but I know that what I have to say is a Big Deal, and I’ve no idea how Dimple will receive it.
I’m trailing my fingers up and down the velvety armrests of the chair where I’m sitting, waiting for her to speak.
“It’s nice to see you today,” she says. “How have things been since last week?”
“Much the same,” I reply.
She hitches up an eyebrow in question.Anything else?This time, I don’t indulge her.
“Last we spoke, you were concerned about your ongoing anger. How have you been finding the meditation exercises we went through?”
Perhaps they’d be plenty useful if I was using them, but alas, I am not.
“They’re great. Thank you.” I clear my throat; I need to lie better. Lying is something I’m usually good at, but lying to Dimple is notsomething I usually do. This muscle is weak, untested. I must do better. “I mean, it’s not a fix, but it helps when I can feel my temper flaring.”
Dimple adjusts slightly in her seat, jaw jostling from side to side in contemplation. If I was trying to avoid triggering her bullshit radar, I’ve failed.
“Tell me, has your temper been flaring often over the past couple of days?”
Sort of. Not really. When I think of Will hunched over his pints in the pub, there’s no anger there. But when I think of Claire, the void of answers from her, the way her secrets have ruined my life…When I think of Will’s blackmail, the greed, the desperate hole he’s left James and me in, I’m so furious I can barely see. James is right. The only way out Will’s left for us is if he ends up six feet under, and it’s only when I’m at my most angry that this even feels possible.
“I’m fine.”
