“Alexander was in bad shape.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“He’d relapsed, Syl. He was drinking again.”
“No,” said Sylvie. “No, Cleo, he wasn’t.”
“He’d been arrested, and he wanted to talk to me about what to do.”
Sylvie stared at her sister. “What the hell are you talking about?” she said. “He wasn’t arrested!MyAlexander? You were talking to my Alexander?”
“Yes,” said Cleo. “I was talking to your Alexander.” Cleo’s mind gave her a list of ways to spin it, to obfuscate the narrative. But she had to be honest. Cleo had betrayed her sister for years, keeping the truth of her dead husband from Sylvie. Hiding what she had done.
“He was arrested on some boys’ night out, Syl. He was arrested for being drunk and disorderly. He was off the wagon. But he didn’t want me to tell you. He was afraid he might get fired. He didn’t know how to get a lawyer without you finding out. You thought he was perfect.”
Sylvie was completely still.
“And he wasn’t perfect. He told you he quit. But he hadn’t quit.”
“Alexander wasarrested?” said Sylvie, shaking her head, closing her eyes.
“He wanted me to do some legal research to help him,” said Cleo. She took a breath. She just needed to speak the truth and then she could leave.
Don’t tell her! Please don’t tell her, Cleo!
Silencing the sound of Alexander’s last plea, Cleo forced it out: “The night he died…Alexander called me. I told him I was going to tell you about the arrest and his drinking,” said Cleo. “I said I was going to tell you everything and he was trying to talk me out of it and then he crashed. And then he died.”
And then Alexander started screaming.
“I don’t even understand what the fuck you’re talking about,” said Sylvie, shivering in her pink cardigan, her knees pulled to her chest on a big bed where Emma slept in her clothes, snoring lightly.
“Sylvie,” said Cleo. “I’ve wanted to go back in time every day since. It was my fault he lost control of the car. It was my fault I didn’t tell you sooner. It was my fault, all of it.”
“Why did you wait ten years to tell me this?” said Sylvie, anger reviving her. She stood and began pacing, her eyes wild.
“I am so sorry, Syl,” said Cleo. “I didn’t know how…I didn’t want to hurt you. And the longer I waited, the more impossible it seemed to say anything.” She moved toward Sylvie, her heart cracking. “All I have ever wanted to do was protect you,” said Cleo. For a moment, Sylvie was warm against Cleo’s chest.
And then Sylvie broke free, took a step back, and then another.
“Go to hell,” said Sylvie.
Of course, thought Cleo. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known how this would all play out. She was frozen in place. “Please…” said Cleo.
“Get out,” said Sylvie. “Just go!” She took Cleo’s arm and pulled her toward the stairs. She started to sob, hitting Cleo’s chest. “Get out! Get out!” she screamed.
Cleo ran down the stairs and outside and the chilling night hit her like a fist. She put her hands to her face but could not cry. She pulled out her phone, seeing that Isaac had sent a text. It was a photo of a brunette woman.You would be proud of me, met Rebecca on Jdate, she works at the Whitney.
Cleo deleted the message, pulled a cigarette from her purse, and lit it with a match. She stood outside the gatehouse, not knowing which direction to go, because there was no destination where she would be welcome.
This was what she deserved.
6
Emma
-$55,120.32
Emma woke up in the middle of the night. She was not in her room in Missoula. She was not in the four-poster bed in the Indigo Suite. Where was Rich? She touched her forehead, pain blooming behind her eyes. She moaned, and a cool hand swept her hair back from her face. She squinted: It was Sylvie.
