arms around her. He studied their reflection in the bathroom mirror, rocking her back and forth as if swaying to music only he could hear.
“I don’t talk about it because I’m with you. We don’t talk about Glen all the time, do we?”
He kissed the top of Nina’s head, the reflection of his eyes staying locked on hers.
“No, I suppose we don’t,” said Nina. “But maybe we should.”
Simon pulled away, looking suddenly confrontational. “Why? What good would that do?”
“I’m just curious, is all,” Nina repeated, her heartbeat picking up as she edged toward the truth. “I want to know all about you, including your past. Did you and Emma ever talk about having children? What did you two fight about? Why do you think she took her own life? There’s a big part of your life I don’t know anything about, Simon. Maybe you’re holding on to something, and, well, talking about it would make things better.”
Trying to read Simon’s emotions was like looking at a blank canvas.
“Better in what way?”
Nina felt her resolve begin to retreat. “You know, better with me, your issues with my job.”
“What issues?”
Nina waited anxiously for a crackling smile that didn’t come. “Are you serious?”
“My only concern is that you working is bad for Maggie,” Simon said, venturing into the bedroom, with Nina following. “You yourself said she’s acting strangely. I wonder why?”
“That’s not fair,” Nina said, responding directly to his sarcasm.
“I told you what would happen,” answered Simon.
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?” Simon snapped.
“Mean,” said Nina.
Simon picked up the clothes that Nina had folded and brought them to the closet, where he carefully shelved them.
“I’m not being mean,” he said, talking in an almost saccharine tone, a few ticks from being condescending. “I’m simply stating the facts as I see them. Maggie is struggling, and, well, I’m not surprised.”
Guilt and anger exploded like fireworks going off inside her. Color flushed her cheeks.
“I don’t get why you keep harping on my job. It’s an issue of yours and I don’t think my working has anything to do with Maggie’s behavior. I’m merely trying to get a better sense of your life before us, learn a bit more about Emma, and Hugh, and what they were like. That’s all.”
Simon emerged from the closet with a bemused look on his face. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, head cocked slightly to one side, his eyes appraising Nina curiously.
“I don’t remember ever mentioning my brother-in-law to you,” he said tonelessly.
Nina’s thoughts flickered. She searched for the right words, some satisfactory explanation, but her throat convulsed, a hitch entering her breathing.
“I’m … I’m sure you did, at some point,” Nina said nervously. “He must have come up in conversation and you forgot. Where else would I get the name?”
Simon’s eyes raked over her with an assessing glance.
“Hmmm, I think I would have remembered.”
“Well, I’m positive you mentioned him,” Nina said assuredly. She hoped the bravado camouflaged her mounting discomfort. Simon did not seem dissuaded.
“He’s a drug addict, and I told Emma to be careful with her medication because of it, but she never listened. We were robbed more than once, and I’m sure it was Hugh’s doing. I think Emma was sure, too, because she kept forgetting to set the alarm—sister helping brother. Do you remember that conversation, Nina?”
A jagged energy came from Simon. His eyes dimmed. Deep channels creased his forehead. He stepped forward, an almost threatening gesture, and Nina felt a sudden urge to retreat. The next instant something shifted again, so quickly that if Nina hadn’t been on alert, she’d have missed it entirely. In a span of a few beats, his expression went from withering to wary to affable. It was as if a director had yelled “Action!” and Simon immediately slipped into character.
“I must have talked about him,” he said. “Guess I forgot.”
“You frightened me,” Nina admitted.
“Well, Hugh frightens me,” said Simon. “Brings up bad memories.”
Simon sat on the bed, and Nina sat down beside him.
“It’s hard for me to talk about Emma.”
Nina’s inner voice spoke loudly: Now … now is your moment.
“Maybe … maybe we should talk to someone together,” she suggested.
Simon’s eyebrows arched. “Who?”
“My therapist, Dr. Wilcox.”
Nina tossed out the suggestion, nervous how Simon would respond.
For a moment, he again was that blank canvas, but soon enough a thoughtful look crossed his face, followed by a light of recognition.
“Sure,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I think I’d like that.”
* * *
IN THE morning, Nina called Dr.