Chapter 12
The Last Supper
Dinner began at eight beneath the chandelier. Julian complimented the food before tasting it. Mara laughed. "You cannot compliment something you have not eaten."
"I can compliment the effort."
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Find the nicest version of everything."
Julian cut into the lasagna.
"Maybe I like living that way."
Mara watched his fork rise. The room seemed to quiet
around the movement. He took a bite. She looked down at her plate before he could see her face.
Julian chewed slowly. Nothing happened. He took another bite, then a third.
Mara's shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Julian talked about a scholarship program.
She barely heard him. Every few minutes, he studied her with an expression she could not read.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Nothing."
"You keep looking at me."
"I was trying to remember when we stopped enjoying
dinner together."
Mara set down her fork.
"Why does everything have to become a conversation?"
Mara asked.
Julian leaned back. "Because we are running out of things
we can safely avoid."
"Safely?"
He did not answer. Mara looked at his plate. More than half
the lasagna was gone. A pulse beat visibly at his temple. "Do you want more?" she asked.
Julian's eyes lifted to hers.
"No."
The word was quiet. Mara took his plate to the kitchen
before he could change his mind. She wrapped the remaining
food and placed it in the refrigerator. Behind her, Julian said,
"Mara." She turned. He was standing in the doorway. "If I asked you right now whether you loved me, what
would you say?"
The question felt like a final exam for a life she had not
studied.
"Of course I love you."
Julian's expression did not change.
"That is what I thought you would say."
By ten, Julian felt a deep discomfort that did not resemble
an ordinary stomachache. He went upstairs, locked himself in
the bathroom, and sent Owen a short message: Something is
wrong. Owen called immediately. Julian did not answer. He
could hear Mara moving in the bedroom. He looked at himself
in the mirror and felt foolish, frightened, and furious all at once. He had wanted proof. His own body might become it.
When he returned to the bedroom, Mara was reading. "I do not feel well," he said.
She lowered the book. "Maybe the cheese was bad." "You ate it too."
"Not much."
Julian sat on the edge of the bed. Mara watched him
without coming closer.
He said, "Would you take me to the hospital if I needed you
to?"
"Why would you ask it like that?"
"Answer me."
On the afternoon of the final dinner, Mara moved through
the grocery store with a list she did not need. She bought
tomatoes, cheese, herbs, bread, wine. Ordinary ingredients for
an ordinary meal. The normality of the cart disturbed her.
People passed with children, coupons, phone calls, complaints
about prices. No one looked at her twice. At home she set the
table with the good dishes and changed the candles twice
because the first pair had burned unevenly. Control mattered
suddenly. If everything looked right, she could pretend the
evening itself was right. She showered, changed clothes, then
changed again. By the time Julian's car entered the drive, the
house smelled warm and familiar.
He came in carrying white roses. For one brief second, Mara
wanted to throw the entire dinner away. Julian had
remembered a conversation from months earlier when she said
white roses looked cleaner than red. He handed them to her
without ceremony.
"Peace offering," he said.
"For what?"
"For being distracted lately."
The irony was almost unbearable. Mara kissed his cheek.
During dinner Julian told her about the scholarship foundation
he wanted to establish. He had already chosen a name that
honored his mother. He spoke with the enthusiasm of
someone planning years ahead, and Mara felt an unfamiliar
pressure behind her ribs. She could still stop. The thought
returned again and again, not as morality but as an exit sign she
refused to use. Julian noticed her barely touching her food.
"You don't like it?"
"I'm not hungry."
He studied her. "You made my favorite meal and lost your
appetite before we sat down." Mara forced a laugh. "Maybe I
cooked too long." Julian lowered his eyes to his plate. When he
took another bite, something in his expression changed - not
pain, not yet, but recognition. Mara could not tell whether he
had recognized danger or simply recognized her fear. Mara's lips
parted. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then she said, "If
you need the hospital, I will take you." Midnight passed.
Julian's condition worsened. He pressed the emergency control
on his watch beneath the blanket where Mara could not see. The alert reached Owen at once. Across town, Owen left his
apartment with a medical kit, two phones, and the keys to an
unmarked vehicle he kept for emergencies. At Holloway
House, Julian stood and nearly collapsed. Mara rose halfway
from the bed.
"Julian?"
He steadied himself against the dresser.
"Hospital," he said.
Fear entered her face, but not the kind he had hoped to see.
It looked less like concern than calculation.
"Okay. Let me get dressed."
She disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.
Julian stared at it. He heard water running. His vision blurred
at the edges. He stopped hoping he had misunderstood her.
The woman behind the door knew he was in danger. And she
was making him wait. When Mara emerged, Julian was seated
on the bed with a handkerchief clenched in his hand. "Please call someone," he said.
The word please seemed to disturb her. She picked up her
purse instead.
"I need to run out first."
Julian thought he had misheard.
"Run out?"
"I forgot something."
"Mara, I need help."
She looked directly at him. In that moment, Julian finally
understood that every offer he had given her had failed because
she did not want freedom from him. She wanted freedom
through his death.
"You know what this is," he said.
Mara's face hardened.
"How would I know?"
He almost told her about the cameras, the reports, the
searches, the sealed file. Instead he said, "Go." Mara hesitated. "You heard me," Julian whispered. "Go do whatever is more
important."
She left. The front door closed. Julian pressed the watch
again. Owen entered through the service door six minutes later.
He found Julian on the bedroom floor, conscious but barely
able to speak.
"We are not using a local hospital," Julian managed. Owen crouched beside him. "You need the closest
emergency department."
"She will check."
"I do not care what she checks."
Julian gripped his sleeve. "Across the state line. Private
facility. Patel." Dr. Samir Patel was an emergency physician
Julian had helped years earlier during a medical transport crisis
involving one of his employees. Patel now worked at a private
trauma center in the neighboring state. Owen understood the
request but hated it.
"This is not the time to disappear."
Julian's eyes sharpened despite the pain. "It is exactly the
time." Owen called ahead under a confidential security
protocol. They left through the rear service drive in an
unmarked vehicle. Julian's phone and wallet remained in the
bedroom. By the time Mara returned, the house contained
every sign of a sick man except the man himself.