husband in the eyes of their kids? Then quit her job and live off savings until Graham found another position and went back to work. Confront him, couples’ counseling, maybe find a new way forward. There was no solution that didn’t introduce a whole host of new problems. Problems she frankly just didn’t have the energy to solve.
“Maybe she’ll disappear,” said Martha. “And you can just pretend it never happened.”
Her voice, it slithered like a snake, was a whisper in the dark.
When Selena looked into Martha’s eyes, it was like staring into space, cold and distant, empty. The vodka was making Selena feel a little sick.
What if Geneva just didn’t turn up for work one day? Disappeared. Graham would pick up the pace on his job hunt big time, Selena bet, if he was full-on with the kids. Maybe Selena could just pretend it never happened. It would be so much easier. For a second, it seemed possible. Her mother, after all, had done it for decades to keep her family intact.
But no. She couldn’t. She couldn’t unsee what she’d seen, unknow what she now knew about her husband. She wasn’t like her mother. She couldn’t just stand by for the sake of the children. Could she?
The train came to life then, lights coming on, lurching forward. Nauseated, heart racing a little, Selena started to gather her things.
“Yeah,” Selena said, managing a thin laugh. “I don’t think I could get that lucky.”
“You never know.” Martha twisted a strand of her dark, silky hair. “Bad things happen all the time.”
Selena moved over to the seat on the other side of the aisle.
“I’ll spread out,” she said as Martha watched with a polite smile. “Give you some space.”
Martha nodded, pulled her tote up off the ground.
“Thanks for the drink,” Selena said when she’d settled. “And for listening.”
“Thank you,” said Martha. “I feel better. I think I know what to do.”
“Sometimes we just need an ear.”
“And a little push in the right direction.”
What did she mean by that? Selena didn’t really want to know. Something about the conversation, the other woman’s tone, the vodka, had her feeling uneasy, and very much wanting the conversation to end. Why had she told this stranger about herself? Something so personal?
She opened her magazine and started flipping through the glossy pages of impossibly slim bodies, flawless faces, enviable lives. When she looked over at Martha again, she seemed to have nodded off. As the train neared her station, Selena gathered her things, but the other woman didn’t stir. She slipped off as quietly as she could, not saying goodbye, not looking back, hoping that they wouldn’t meet again.
FOUR
Geneva
Geneva stacked Crate and Barrel plates in the dishwasher, then wiped down the gleaming quartz countertop, listening to the boys bouncing around upstairs while Graham tried to read a story and get them settled for the night. Jumping off the beds by the sound of it, a heavy thud that caused glasses in the cabinets to rattle slightly. Something neither Selena nor Geneva would ever tolerate. Story time was for winding down, not winding up.
She put away the leftover food from dinner, leaving a plate wrapped in the fridge for Selena, even though she’d probably already eaten.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she closed the refrigerator door. She was sorry. She liked Selena, respected her. She would never have chosen to hurt and betray her in this way. In the worst way one woman could betray another.
She was used to it. That hot feeling of shame. Its familiarity was almost a comfort. The heat started in her center, then radiated up to her face in a rush. Finally, there was a bottoming out that left her with a gaping hollow in her center.
Why? Why would she do this? Again and again. She didn’t want to.
There was only one reason. And this was the very last time. She’d been putting money away. There was almost enough now to break free.
She sat at the table and wrote a list for Selena.
“Oliver needs a new uniform shirt, order from the school office; Stephen’s teacher—” who seemed like a bit of a tight-ass to Geneva “—said at pickup that he was a chatterbox lately, distracting his friends, and not paying attention.”
In fact, Stephen was a chatterbox—but he was lovely and creative and sweet. Anyway, Selena would know what to say to Stephen, and to his teacher. Luckily, Geneva’s job was only to report the problem; she didn’t have to handle it. That was the joy