Now You See Her Page 0,36
minutes. Judith has a rather short attention span.”
“And the marriage lasted …?”
“Two weeks.”
“I see what you mean about a short attention span.”
“Actually, that wasn’t the reason they split up,” Marcy clarified. “It turned out he was gay.”
Liam nodded. “Dare I ask about husband number three?”
“An advertising executive. It lasted four years.”
“Well, now, that’s an improvement.”
“He was away a lot.”
“And it broke up because …?”
“He started staying home.”
Again Liam laughed. “Number four?”
“A stockbroker she met at the gym. Nice enough guy until he started taking steroids.”
“It lasted …?”
“Eight years.”
“Perfectly respectable,” Liam said. “Which brings us to husband number five.”
“A lawyer. Specializes in medical malpractice. Does very well indeed. They’ve been married almost fifteen years now.”
“So, he’s a keeper, is he?”
“Well, that remains to be seen.”
“Any children?”
“No. Judith never wanted kids.”
“Unlike you,” Liam stated more than asked.
“Unlike me.”
“So, how many times have you been married?”
Marcy took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “Only once.”
Liam cocked his head to one side, clearly intrigued. “So … widowed, divorced, happily married?”
“Separated,” Marcy said. “My divorce should be final in another month or so.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“How am I supposed to feel?” Marcy could hear the sudden testiness in her voice.
“Sorry, I think that was definitely none of my business.”
Marcy took a long sip of her Irish coffee, not because she wanted more but because it gave her time to think. “No, it’s all right. It’s just that I haven’t really talked about it with anybody.”
“Do you want to talk about it now?”
“No,” she said. Then, “Maybe.” Then again, “Actually yes, I think I do.”
Liam looked at her expectantly.
“There’s really nothing to say,” Marcy told him after a pause. “I mean, what do you say? My husband left me for another woman. It’s such a cliché.” She took another deep breath, returned the mug of Irish coffee to her lips, then lowered it again immediately. “You asked me how I feel. I’ll tell you. I’m angry. No, I’m furious. I feel betrayed. I feel abandoned. I feel embarrassed. I mean, he left me for one of the golf pros at our country club. They haven’t had a scandal like this in years. And all my friends …” She laughed, a sharp bark that scratched at the air. “My friends. What friends? We didn’t really have that many friends to begin with, and then after what happened with Devon …” She broke off. “I can’t really blame them. It’s hard for people after a tragedy. They don’t know what to say. They don’t know what to do. So instead of saying or doing the wrong thing, they don’t say or do anything. And then pretty soon they stop calling and coming around. And then it’s just the two of you. And you don’t know what to say to each other either because everything you say is a potential land mine waiting to be stepped on, and it makes it hard, it makes it really hard, for a marriage to survive. Not that we didn’t have problems before.” Marcy continued, unable to stem the flow of words that poured from her mouth like water from a tap. “We’d been having problems for a few years, ever since it became obvious that Devon, that Devon, that Devon …” Her voice stuck on her daughter’s name, as if it were a broken record.
“Tell me about your daughter,” Liam said softly.
Marcy hesitated, trying to decide what facts to leave in and which ones to leave out. She didn’t want to violate what little remained of her daughter’s privacy. Unlike Judith, Devon had never willingly put herself out there for public consumption. She’d kept everything to herself, which had only contributed to her problems.
“My daughter is bipolar,” Marcy began, the words somersaulting from her mouth in a series of reluctant syllables. “Do you know what that is?”
“Is it the same thing as schizophrenia?”
“No. Devon doesn’t hear voices. She’s not paranoid. She just has a chemical imbalance.” She continued, trying to remember the exact words the doctor had used to describe the condition, then giving up in frustration. “It used to be known as manic depression.”
“One minute you’re happy, the next you’re bawlin’ your eyes out,” Liam said.
“I guess that about sums it up, yes.”
He apologized immediately. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound glib.”
Marcy dismissed his apology with a shake of her head. “It tends to run in families. My mother had it as well. She committed suicide when I was fifteen.”
If Liam was shocked, he didn’t let on. “Is that