Chapter 9 #3
"Is that your diplomatic version?"
"That's my adult version. You'll hear the child's version if you start pushing."
"I won't push."
"We'll see."
He turned his head.
"You went to the lawyer?"
"I did."
"And?"
"I have options."
"Naturally. Everyone has options if they dismantle the house brick by brick long enough."
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting. I'm trying to understand how far you went today."
"Far enough to stop confusing your 'I don't want to' with the law."
He smirked without joy.
"Good lawyer."
"Good line."
"Niki, I'm not an idiot. I understand that legally you can do a great deal. The question isn't about papers."
"Then what's it about?"
"About what you actually want a month from now. Not today."
"And if a month from now I want the same thing?"
"Then a month from now we'll be standing in a different hell."
"We?"
"Yes, we. You can erase me from your room, your bed, and your plans all you like, but from the consequences I'm not going anywhere. I did this to us both."
"No. You did it to me. You just put yourself on notice that there'd be a price to pay."
He accepted. Not right away, but accepted. Dropped his gaze to the court, where Tim had fallen, scrambled up quickly, and shoved the coach's hand away.
"He's my son," Damien said hoarsely.
"I know."
"And now he pushes away a hand because he saw you push mine."
"No. He pushes away because he's hurting, and the men in your family believe pain should be hidden in a fist."
Damien looked at me for a long time.
"Exactly."
"What?"
"You're right."
I was even thrown off.
"Don't overdo it. I might get used to it."
"Get used to it. I think I'll be saying it more often."
"Is this a new tactic?"
"The old one died."
For a second something almost alive appeared between us. Not warmth. Not forgiveness. Just a strange understanding that we were both standing beside the same child who was trying not to look at his father, and neither of us knew how to give him back his safety.
At home, after the children were asleep, I came down to the kitchen for water. Damien was standing by the window. Waiting. Of course.
"Don't," I said at once.
"I'm not going to argue about the lawyer."
"Then about what?"
"About you."
"Too late."
"I know you love that word, but it doesn't close every conversation."
"No, Damien. It doesn't close. It just describes."
He came closer. I set the glass on the table.
"Don't touch me."
He stopped.
"I remember the boundary."
"Then stay there."
He nodded.
"I blocked Lara," he said. "Yesterday. She left the country."
The name struck my back.
"I don't care."
"You do."
I turned.
"Are you really about to explain to me what I feel?"
"No. I'm saying it can't be nothing to you this soon after something like this. And if you say 'I'm hurting,' I'll hear it. But if you keep saying 'I don't care' every time, we'll both be talking to a stone wall."
"And who were you talking to when you slept with my sister? A living wife?"
He paled.
"I'm not asking you to choose words for my comfort."
"Then don't. I'm still choosing. Very carefully."
"I can tell."
"No, Damien. You're just starting to look."
At that moment my phone rang. The screen read: "Mom." I almost laughed. Of course. The universe decided we hadn't had enough.
"Don't answer if you don't want to," Damien said.
"Now you're giving me permission not to take calls?"
"I'm suggesting."
I answered. Not because I wanted to. Because I was tired of being afraid of other people's reactions.
"Mom."
"Niki, what have you done?" My mother's voice was strained and angry. "Lara just called me from the airport. She says she's leaving because you hit her and threw her out of the house. Have you lost your mind?"
The word landed in the old, familiar voice. From it, I didn't want to scream. From it, I wanted to be small again and ask: Mom, please, at least you don't finish me off.
"Lara slept with Damien," I said.
Silence.
Damien watched me.
"What?" my mother breathed.
"My sister slept with my husband. For months. That's why I hit her. Not because I'm hysterical. Because I only have one hand, and the pain is large."
On the other end, breathing.
"Niki... maybe you misunder—"
I hung up.
Simply pressed the red button and for the first time in my life didn't stay to hear my mother out.
My hands were shaking. Damien took a step but stopped himself.
"Don't," I said.
"I'm quiet."
"Then stay quiet."
The phone vibrated again. A text now. From Lara.
"I'm leaving. Don't ask Mom to stop me. And don't think he became yours just because he threw me away."
I looked at the screen, then held the phone out to Damien.
"Here. Read how your mistake departs."
He read it. His face hardened.
"She won't text again."
"Don't bother. Let her text. Every message reminds me I haven't lost my mind."
I took the phone back, opened my notebook, and next to the line "Documents" wrote one more word: "Lawyer."
Damien saw.
"Niki."
"What?"
"We can get through this without a war."
I raised my eyes to his.
"The war already happened. I just spent a long time thinking it was a marriage."