Chapter 5: The Man Who Didn't Know He Was on Speaker
She answered it.
I don't know if it was panic or defiance or something she had already planned for.
She answered it, and before I could say a word she had the phone pressed to her ear and she was already turning away from me toward the window.
"Hey," she said.
Her voice dropped.
"Now's not a good time."
I stood up from the table.
She held up one hand toward me.
A warning.
Or a plea.
I couldn't tell which.
"I know, I know," she said into the phone.
"I'll call you later."
I walked around the table.
She turned to keep her back to me, but the kitchen wasn't big enough for that.
I reached past her and pressed the speaker button.
She spun around.
"Don't—"
But Derek's voice was already in the room.
"—just need to know if he's actually back or if Haley was wrong.
Because if he's back, we need to talk about the account before he—"
"Derek." Kendra's voice came out sharp.
"Stop talking."
Silence on the line.
Then: "Is he there?"
I said, "Yes."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"Who is this?" Derek said, though he already knew.
"This is Kendra's husband.
I got home about two hours ago." I kept my voice steady.
"You were saying something about an account."
"I wasn't — I don't know what you think you heard—"
"You said, 'We need to talk about the account before he—' before he what, Derek?"
The line went quiet again.
I could hear him breathing.
"I think you should hang up," Derek said.
But he was talking to Kendra, not to me.
"She's not going to hang up," I said.
"Because I'd like to understand what account you're referring to.
We've already established that Kendra has been making cash withdrawals from our joint account for eleven months.
So I'm curious what other account needs to be discussed before I find it myself."
"I'm not talking to you."
"You already are."
Kendra reached for the phone.
I didn't grab her wrist.
I didn't raise my voice.
I just looked at her, and something in my expression made her hand stop halfway.
She set the phone back on the counter.
"Derek," I said.
"Here's what I know.
I know you've been in my house nine times in three months.
I know my daughter had to put on headphones and stay in her room.
I know my wife transferred you more than four thousand dollars over eight months." I paused.
"And I know that whatever you're about to say next, I already have the records.
So you can either tell me about the account, or I can find it the same way I found everything else."
A long pause.
Then Derek said, "You need to talk to a lawyer before you do anything stupid."
"I've already talked to a lawyer."
That was a lie.
But it landed.
"Kendra." Derek's voice changed.
Harder now.
Less careful.
"I told you this would happen.
I told you months ago you needed to—"
"Derek, stop." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"—needed to get ahead of it.
If he's already got the bank records then you need to—"
"Derek." Louder now.
Desperate.
"—call Simmons today.
Not tomorrow.
Today.
Because if he files first—"
I picked up the phone and ended the call.
The kitchen was very quiet.
Kendra stood with her back against the counter, both hands gripping the edge behind her.
She was staring at the floor.
"Who is Simmons?" I said.
She didn't answer.
"Is Simmons a lawyer?"
Nothing.
"Kendra.
Has Derek already spoken to a divorce attorney on your behalf?"
She looked up.
Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying.
She looked exhausted.
Not ashamed.
Exhausted, the way someone looks when they've been managing something for a very long time and the management has finally failed.
"I was going to tell you," she said.
"When?"
"When you got back.
When the time was—"
"You were going to file for divorce before I came home."
She didn't deny it.
I sat back down at the table.
I needed a moment.
I had prepared for anger and deflection and excuses.
I had not fully prepared for this — for the possibility that she hadn't been waiting to be caught.
She had been waiting to leave, and I had simply arrived before the paperwork did.
"How long?" I said.
"What?"
"How long have you been planning this?"
She looked at the window.
"About six months."
Six months.
I had been overseas for four.
Which meant she had started planning while I was still home.
"Is Derek the reason, or is he just—"
"He's not the reason."
"Then what is?"
She was quiet for a long time.
Long enough that I heard Cody's bedroom door open upstairs, and his small footsteps cross the hallway to the bathroom, and the door close again.
Neither of us moved until we heard him go back.
"I stopped wanting this life," she said finally.
"I stopped wanting to be the woman who waits."
It was the most honest thing she had said since I walked through the door.
I almost wished she hadn't said it.
"The money," I said.
"The twenty-three thousand.
Was that for Simmons?"
She nodded once.
Small.
Almost imperceptible.
"Some of it," she said.
"And some of it for a deposit."
"On what?"
She looked at me then.
Directly.
For the first time.
May you like
"An apartment," she said.
"I signed the lease two weeks ago."
