Chapter 12 - The Question Twenty-Two Years Couldn’t Answer
Six weeks after William’s death, Claire agreed to meet Mark at the house.
Melissa waited ten minutes away.
Claire’s attorney knew where she was.
Mark seemed offended when she told him that.
“You think I’m dangerous now?”
Claire looked toward the dining chair.
His eyes followed.
“I apologized for that.”
“You said you were upset.”
“I was.”
“That isn’t an apology.”
Mark sat down.
He looked exhausted.
The business had dropped from fourteen employees to eleven.
His hair appeared grayer.
Claire hated that she still cared.
“I sold another trailer,” he said.
“I heard.”
“Three guys are gone.”
“I heard.”
“You know their families.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay with this?”
“No.”
Mark frowned.
“No?”
“I hate it.”
“Then help.”
Claire shook her head.
“Feeling terrible doesn’t make me responsible.”
He pushed away from the table.
“There. That’s your father talking.”
“No.”
Claire stood.
“This is me.”
Mark looked toward William’s photograph.
“I hated how he looked at me.”
Claire waited.
“Every time business slowed, William acted like he’d always known I was some salesman pretending to be successful.”
“He never said that.”
“He didn’t have to.”
“So this was about Dad?”
“No.”
Mark paced.
“It was about me.”
Finally.
No employees.
No marital property.
No legal terminology.
Mark stopped near the window.
“I was terrified.”
Claire said nothing.
“If the company failed, I didn’t know who I was supposed to be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I needed you to believe I could handle it.”
“I was your wife.”
“Exactly.”
Claire felt tears fill her eyes.
“That should’ve made me the first person you told.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
Mark looked down.
She continued.
“You didn’t just hide debt. You turned my father into an exit plan. You made promises using money I hadn’t inherited from a man who was still alive.”
“I know.”
“And when he protected me, you acted like he stole from you.”
Mark sat heavily.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Claire asked the question that had been underneath every other question.
“Do you believe being married to me means you own what belongs to me?”
Mark did not answer immediately.
That delay was more honest than anything he'd said in months.
Finally:
“I think I used to.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Used to.
The phrase contained hope.
It also contained twenty-two years.
When she opened her eyes, Mark was watching her.
“Are you leaving me?”
Claire picked up her purse.
“I already left.”
“I mean permanently.”
Claire looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
For once, uncertainty belonged to Claire.
And Mark had no power to hurry it.
