Chapter 8: Sunday Night
Marcus came home Sunday night to an apartment that still had his things in it.
I wasn't there.
He texted at 9:47 PM: *I'm home.
Where are you?*
I was at Deb's, sitting on the edge of the guest bed with Mia asleep beside me and Jaylen in the next room.
I read the text and put the phone face-down on the mattress.
Grace had told me: when you're ready, do it in writing.
Short.
Clear.
No room for negotiation.
I picked the phone back up.
I typed: *I won't be coming back.
I'll arrange a time to collect the rest of our things when you're not there.
Please don't contact me after this.*
I read it three times.
I sent it.
He called immediately.
I let it ring.
He called again.
I let it ring.
Then a text: *Renee you are making a massive mistake.
Everything my mother told you is a lie.
She has been trying to destroy my life since I was twenty years old.
You don't know her.
You don't know what she's capable of.
Call me back.*
Then another: *I love you.
I love those kids.
Don't do this.*
Then another: *Fine.
If this is how you want to play it.*
I read that last one twice.
*If this is how you want to play it.* Like I had made a move in a game.
Like this was strategy.
I put the phone down and didn't pick it up again that night.
---
He showed up at Deb's building on Tuesday.
I don't know how he found out where I was.
Deb thought maybe he'd called her mother, who didn't know not to say anything.
He didn't come upstairs.
He stood outside the front entrance and called me four times in a row.
When I didn't answer, he texted: *I just want to talk.
Five minutes.
I'm not angry.
I just want to explain.*
I called Grace.
"He's outside the building," I said.
"Has he tried to enter?"
"No.
He's just calling."
"Don't go down.
Don't respond.
I'm going to send you a message to forward to him — a formal notice that further contact should go through me.
Send it as soon as you get it."
It came through in three minutes.
I copied it exactly and sent it to Marcus.
He read it.
The two blue ticks appeared immediately.
He didn't reply.
He didn't call again.
I watched from Deb's window as he stood outside for another few minutes, looking up at the building.
Then he put his phone in his pocket and walked back to his car.
Deb came and stood beside me.
"Is he gone?" she said.
"He's gone."
She put her arm around me.
We stood there until his car turned the corner and disappeared.
"You okay?" she said.
"I don't know yet."
"That's okay." She squeezed my shoulder.
"You don't have to know yet."
---
Two weeks later, Grace called me.
"I've been in contact with an attorney representing Tamara," she said.
"She reached out after Marcus apparently told her the same story he told you — that his mother had interfered and fabricated everything."
"He told her about me?"
"He told her you were a troubled ex who had been harassing him.
He told her Carol was unstable." A pause.
"Tamara didn't believe him.
She'd had her own doubts for a while.
When she heard Carol had driven four hours to warn someone, she started asking questions."
I sat down.
"What happens now?" I said.
"Tamara is pursuing her own legal matter regarding the children and financial support.
That's separate from your situation." Grace paused.
"But she asked me to pass something along to you."
"What?"
"She said: *Tell her I'm sorry.
And tell her she wasn't the only one he lied to.*"
I looked at the business card still tucked behind my license in my wallet.
Carol's handwriting.
A name and a number.
"Grace," I said.
"Is there anything he can do to either of us at this point?
Legally.
Is there any way he comes out of this with leverage?"
"He has no legal claim to your children.
He has no financial claim against you.
May you like
The only leverage he ever had was what you believed about yourself." She paused.
"And you stopped believing it."
