Chapter 7: What Cara Said
I didn't move.
Mark stayed in the doorway.
He wasn't coming closer.
Maybe he understood that right now, distance was the only thing keeping the room from breaking apart.
"Is it yours?" I asked.
"She says it is."
"That's not what I asked."
He came in then.
Sat on the couch across from me.
Elbows on his knees.
"February was the last time," he said.
"If she's telling the truth about being pregnant — the timing could match.
I don't know.
I don't know if she's telling the truth."
"Why would she lie?"
"To keep me involved.
To keep the door open." He looked at his hands.
"She knew I'd ended it.
She knew I wasn't going to see her again.
This might be—" He stopped.
"I don't know what this is."
"You need to find out."
"I know."
"If there is a child, Mark — that changes everything.
You understand that."
"I know."
"Not just for us.
For that child."
He looked up.
His eyes were red again.
"I know, Sarah.
I know."
I stood up.
Walked to the window.
The neighbor's dog had stopped barking.
The street was empty and still.
"I want you to request a paternity test," I said.
"As soon as possible.
I'm not going to build anything on a foundation of not knowing."
"Okay."
"And I want you to tell me everything she said.
Every word.
Not a summary.
Everything."
He told me.
It took twenty minutes.
I stood at the window the whole time and listened.
Cara had called him back within ten minutes of his message.
She'd been calm, he said.
Unnervingly calm.
She'd told him she was nine weeks along.
That she'd found out three weeks ago.
That she'd been trying to decide what to do.
That she wasn't asking him for anything — she just thought he had a right to know.
"Did she say what she wants?" I asked.
"She said she's keeping it."
I nodded.
"Did she sound like she was telling the truth?"
Mark was quiet for a moment.
"Yes," he said.
"I wish she hadn't.
But yes."
I turned around.
Faced him.
"I need you to hear me very clearly," I said.
"I am not going to pretend this isn't happening.
I am not going to smile and carry on and act like our life is the same as it was a week ago.
It isn't."
"I know."
"But I also need you to hear this." I crossed my arms.
Not in anger.
More like I was holding myself together.
"I have not decided to leave.
I have not decided to stay.
I am deciding nothing until I know the truth about that child.
And when I know — then we talk.
Really talk.
About what this marriage is and whether it can survive what you did."
He nodded.
His throat moved.
"Whatever you need," he said.
"Whatever you decide."
"Don't say that like it costs you nothing."
"It doesn't cost me nothing." His voice cracked.
"Losing you would cost me everything.
I know I don't deserve to say that right now.
But it's true."
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I picked up my phone and texted my sister.
*Are you free tonight?
I need to talk.*
Her reply came in under a minute.
*Already putting the kettle on.
Come whenever.*
I put my coat on.
Picked up my keys.
"I'll be back by nine," I said.
"The kids need dinner at six.
Lily has reading homework."
"I'll take care of it."
I opened the front door.
The evening air was cool.
Across the street, someone was mowing a lawn.
The smell of cut grass drifted over.
I stood on the step for a moment.
"Mark," I said, without turning around.
"Call a doctor tomorrow.
Get the test started.
Don't wait."
"I will," he said.
"First thing."
I walked to my car.
Got in.
May you like
Sat for a moment with my hands on the wheel.
Then I drove to my sister's house, and for the first time in a week, I let myself cry.
