“No, I appreciate what you did, Gab.” And I do.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY I arrive at my apartment shortly before three. It’s strange to be back. All the white in the rooms—the walls and furniture and fabrics—which I always adored, seems stark after the seductive blue and gold and violet tones of Gabby’s place. It’s weirdly quiet, too. Usually, even this high up, I can hear the muted sound of rumbling trucks or sirens from the street or the wind coursing along the side of building, but today it feels as if the space has been hermetically sealed.
I use the next few hours to sort through my mail, run a couple of loads of laundry, and set out the items I purchased for dinner, everyday stuff that doesn’t feel like everyday anymore. During this time, one lingering mystery ends up solved. As I’m trying to decide whether I’m ever going to wear my trench coat again, I notice an inside pocket I’ve forgotten about, and hidden in there is my missing credit card.
Hugh arrives home, as promised, exactly at six, and I let him hug me. I briefly welcome the comfort of having his arms around me and the softness of his shirt against my cheek.
“Jeez, Ally, I’ve been so worried about you,” he mutters into my hair. “I just wish you had let me see you before now.”
“There’s nothing you could have done, Hugh,” I say, stepping back. “And the worst seems to be over.”
“You’ve got to fill me in. There’s still so much I don’t know.”
“I will. Are you ready to eat? The food’s on the table.”
“Terrific,” he says, shrugging off his suit jacket. “I’ll change later.”
We talk as we eat, with me fleshing out the missing details for him.
He doesn’t disguise how shocked he is and finally rests an elbow on the table, dropping his head into his hand.
“She would have killed you,” he said, his voice cracking. “And she would have buried your body like that other woman.”
“Hugh,” I say, moved by his anguish. “Let’s not think about that. Because it didn’t play out that way.”
“You saved yourself, Ally.”
I chuckle ruefully. “I guess all those years of field hockey finally paid off for me.”
He clears both our plates and returns to the table with a fresh bottle of sparkling water.
“Hugh, there’s more we need to talk about,” I say. “And that’s the two of us.”
He exhales, reaches over to grasp my hand.
“I want to make it work, Ally. I really do.”
I sit silently for a minute or two, feeling him watching me intently. My lips are pursed, I realize. Perhaps on some level, I’m scared of saying the wrong thing and later regretting it. But I’m pretty sure I know what I want.
“Look, on the one hand I’m relieved you didn’t end up sleeping with that woman. But you were attracted to her. You took her out for drinks and flirted with her. You kissed her. I know we’ve been fighting lately, but that’s hardly an excuse. And worst of all, you covered it up to protect yourself at a time when I desperately needed the truth.”
“That’s only because I wanted a second chance with you. I was afraid if I told you what had really happened, you wouldn’t give me that.”
“Or you didn’t want me to know that you’d upset me so badly, I’d fallen apart.”
He grimaces.
“It was terrible judgment on my part. But can you forgive me for this mistake? I know that marriages can survive this kind of thing, that it can even make them stronger.”
“I’m aware of that, too. People drift apart or become preoccupied with work and they end up hurting or betraying each other. And on an intellectual level, I can see how it’s possible to forgive and move on.”
“So you can forgive me?”
“I can forgive you, Hugh, yes. But I would never be able to let go of it.”
“Ally, please, it won’t happen again.”
For some crazy reason I flash on a piece of personal finance advice I’ve touted: Never make financial decisions based on what you assume you’ll be earning in the future. Meaning don’t buy a pricier car or house because you’re due for a promotion or plan to inherit soon from a grandparent. There are no guarantees about how things will play out in the future. And I can’t bank on the fact that Hugh’s mistake is a one-off, despite what he’s promising.
“I appreciate you saying that. And I have a feeling you’d try, at least for a while. But there’s something I need to explain. As horrible as things have been for me lately, it’s helped me realize a critical fact about myself. Ever since I found Jaycee Long in the woods that day, I’ve felt unsafe in the world. My parents tried to comfort me, and the therapist I saw when I was a kid did her best, but because I deceived them and couldn’t show them how ashamed I was, I couldn’t feel better. I think that finding the body in Erling’s office made me come unglued because it reinforced that sense of being at risk.”
“But—”
“Hugh, let me finish. I want to be safe again. I was attracted to you in part because you made me feel that way. But not anymore. If we stayed together, I would always be wondering and worrying—every time you got home late or needed to take a shower after work.”
“Ally . . .”
“I’ve already made up my mind. We need to separate. One of us can take the bedroom and the other the den until we work out the specifics.”
“Please, can’t we see a counselor, and talk about this more?”
“If you want to work with a counselor to make the transition easier, I’ll go with you, as long as you view it as nothing beyond that.”
“All right,” he says, finally, his head lowered. My sense is that he knows it’s pointless to keep talking, but that he might renew his efforts down the road. It won’t matter. It’s wrenching to think my marriage is over, but I can’t see any hope.
Later, as I’m listlessly putting away laundry in the bedroom—Hugh volunteered to take the den—Roger calls.
“How are you, Button?”
“Hanging in there.” The news about Hugh and me feels too damn fresh to share right this moment, so I save it.
“I’ve got an update on the situation out here,” Roger says. “Is this an okay time?”
“Yes, I’m eager to hear.”
“Nowak confided in me that Audrey’s mother has apparently come forward. Says Audrey told her not to go into Jaycee’s room the night she babysat, or the next morning, just peek through the doorway. She said it was because she didn’t want Jaycee to wake up. There was a bulge in the bed, but the grandmother never saw the girl. She’d probably been dumped in the woods by then.”
“Wow.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, it’s good to finally see the truth emerge.”
We agree to talk tomorrow and finalize our plans to meet again this week, and he promises to fill me in then on the latest with Marion, though I sense his relationship is as doomed as mine. As for our father, we’ve given him a watered-down version of events and have been keeping him abreast.
After signing off, I deliberate what to do next. I feel an urge to go outside, to be in the world again now that I’m sure no one is trying to harm me. Before I can do anything, my phone pings with a text from Jay Williams.