Chapter 4: Some Kind of Misunderstanding
Charlotte didn't move.
She sat with her hands in her lap and looked at Oliver the way someone looks at a thing they've already figured out.
"There's no misunderstanding," she said.
"I was in the elevator with you."
Oliver's expression shifted.
Something behind his eyes recalculated.
"I don't remember seeing you."
"You were on your phone."
"I take Daisy for drives all the time.
She falls asleep.
I must have—"
"You put her on the bench outside the building," Charlotte said.
"You set her down, you got back in your car, and you drove away.
She was crying before you reached the end of the block."
Oliver turned to me.
"You're going to take the word of someone you barely know over your own husband?"
"I know what I saw," Charlotte said.
"You don't know anything about me or my family." His voice had an edge now.
Not loud.
Controlled.
The kind of controlled that I recognized.
The kind he used when he wanted me to feel like I was being unreasonable.
"You've lived across that hall for a year and you've never said a single word to either of us.
Now suddenly you're in my apartment making accusations?"
"Oliver." My voice stopped him.
"Who is Renee?"
The calculation came back into his face.
Faster this time.
"She's someone from work.
You know that."
"Charlotte heard you on the phone.
You said you were on your way.
You said you just needed to drop her off first."
"That's not what I said."
"Then what did you say?"
He looked at Charlotte.
"I'd like you to leave."
Charlotte looked at me.
"She stays," I said.
Something moved across Oliver's face.
I had never told him no in front of another person before.
Not like that.
Not with that kind of stillness behind it.
He tried a different angle.
He crouched down near Daisy and touched her hair gently.
"Hey, bug." His voice went soft.
"Did you have a good ride with Daddy?"
Daisy leaned away from him.
It was a small thing.
She was two.
Maybe she was just tired.
But she leaned away, and Oliver's hand stayed in the air for a moment with nothing to touch.
He stood back up.
"I want her to leave," he said again.
"And then I want to talk to you alone."
"We're talking now."
"This isn't a conversation I'm having in front of a stranger."
"Then it's a conversation you're not having tonight." I walked to the kitchen counter and picked up my phone.
"I'm calling your mother."
His face changed completely.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I need someone else here right now and I don't trust myself to be alone with you."
"That's insane.
You're being insane."
"Oliver." I looked at him.
Really looked.
"Daisy was on that bench alone.
Whatever explanation you have, that is the fact we are starting from.
She was on that bench.
Alone.
At night.
While you drove away."
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"I made a mistake," he said finally.
"I got distracted.
I thought she was still in the car.
I know how that sounds but it happens — people forget—"
"You said you could see her in the mirror."
He stopped.
"On the phone.
Twenty minutes ago.
You told me you could see her in the mirror."
The room went completely silent.
Daisy pulled the fringe off the rug and held it up like she'd won something.
May you like
Oliver looked at the floor.
"I think," Charlotte said quietly, "that you should make that phone call."
