'Why? Did you want to hang it on the wall?'
'I could have given it to the police.'
'That would have been dumb, wouldn't it? Give the police the evidence they need to arrest you?'
'But don't you see? It might have helped clear my name. If I gave it to them voluntarily, they would hardly suspect me, would they?'
'It's easy for you to say that now.' She shook her head, and more tears came. 'It was horrible to see it. The thing that killed Dad. I couldn't stand having it here in the apartment. I had to get rid of it right away. And I thought I was doing you a favour!'
This was ridiculous. 'Lisa, it's not my gun. I didn't put it there. I didn't kill your father.'
'It was there, right in front of my eyes, Simon. I can't ignore it.'
I rushed over to her, and put my hands on her shoulders. She tried to wriggle free.
'Lisa. Lisa! Look at me.'
Reluctantly, she did.
'How can you believe I murdered him? You know me. How can you think I'd do something like that?'
Lisa held my eyes, and then looked away. 'I can't bear to think about it.'
'It wasn't mine, Lisa. You must believe that.'
'I don't know what to believe.' Her hands reached my chest and pushed me away. 'Let go of me!'
I released her shoulders and stood back. Frustration at my inability to convince her boiled up inside me. 'Lisa. It wasn't me. I didn't kill your father. I've never even seen the bloody gun. I didn't kill your father!' I shouted.
She sat still, letting the echo of my denial reverberate though the small room. Then she looked up at me. 'I'm going to bed,' she said, and pushed past me to the bedroom.
She said nothing to me the next morning, as we both got ready for work. I tried to initiate some kind of communication, but with no success. Her face was set in stony misery, the corners of her mouth turned down, her brow furrowed. In the bathroom, while she was brushing her teeth and looking in the mirror, she burst into tears. I went to comfort her, I wanted to comfort her so badly, but as I touched her, her whole body tensed up, rigid, and she held her breath in tight, until I removed my hand.
A couple of minutes later, she left the apartment to walk to the Charles Street 'T' for the short subway journey to Boston Peptides' lab in Cambridge, and I set off in the other direction.
It was a long, cruel day at work. I couldn't focus on anything properly. I couldn't even focus on what the gun was doing in our apartment. All I could think about was Lisa. What would she do? How would she react? Would she believe me? How could I make her believe me? How could I calm her down, bring back the old Lisa?
Daniel and John must have realized something was wrong, but they left me alone. I was grateful.
Lisa didn't get home till eight. I waited for her with apprehension, fiddling about with a salad we would have for supper.
When I heard the front door of the apartment slam, I walked out to meet her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips which she reluctantly returned.
'Hi,' I said.
'Hi.'
'Good day?'
Stupid question. 'Simon. BioOne is going to take the place apart. No it wasn't a good day'
'Sorry. I made a salad.'
'Great,' Lisa said with little enthusiasm, and picked up her mail.
I went back into the kitchen, poured a couple of glasses of wine, and handed Lisa one. She grunted her thanks, and read a piece of junk mail from a credit card company with great interest.
'Supper's ready,' I said a few minutes later.
'Oh, I won't be a minute. I just want to call Eddie.'
She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door. She was half an hour. I reread the newspaper and tried not to get angry, but failed.
Eventually she came out. She'd been crying. Her eyes were red, but she'd wiped away the tears. Her face was pinched, the corners of her mouth in what was becoming their habitual turned-down position. I moved over to her to hold her. She didn't push me away, but she remained tense.
As we sat down, I felt a turmoil of opposing emotions. One was a powerful desire to pull Lisa towards me, to comfort her, to try to heal the terrible hurt she was feeling. The other was anger that she wouldn't let me do that, that she wouldn't trust me, that she was suspicious of me.
We sat in silence munching the salad. A tear ran down her cheek. At first she tried to ignore it, and then she sniffed and wiped it away.
'Oh, Lisa,' I said, moving my hand across to her. As I touched her sleeve she shook it off, and picked up her fork to stab a chunk of avocado. 'Talk to me.'
'What about?'
'About Frank. About me. About you and me.'
She put down her fork, and sniffed. 'What about you and me?'
'I need to know whether you think I killed your father.'
She put down her fork, and took a deep breath. 'I don't know,' she said.
Despite my resolution to control it, the anger flashed inside me. 'What do you mean, you don't know? You have to know! You have to believe me.'
Her eyes flashed at me. 'Yes, I guess. I do have to believe you, don't I? If I'm going to live here under the same roof with you, I've got to believe you.'
'Well? Do you?'
Lisa shrugged, and looked down at her salad. 'I guess so,' she said.
'That's not good enough!' As soon as I'd said this I regretted it.
Lisa threw down her fork. 'I'm sorry that's not good enough for you, but it's the best I can do. The truth is, Simon, I just don't know. I've been thinking about it all day, and I'm totally confused. The police think you killed Dad, Eddie thinks you killed Dad, and I'm left wondering whether I'm just the stupid little wife, living with a murderer, sleeping next to a murderer. But you're right, how can I believe you'd do something like that? How can I even think something like that?'
'You have to trust me, Lisa-'
'Simon, I'd love to trust you. But don't you see, I can't.' She paused, taking in deep breaths, trying, and failing, to hold back the tears. 'Today I decided I'd just try to live with you, and ignore all my doubts, but I'm not sure I can do it.'
'You can, Lisa. You can.'
She sat in silence for a moment, the tears flowing freely. Then she shook her head. 'No. It won't work. I'm confused, I'm tired, I've never felt so miserable. Everything is just… falling apart. I don't have the strength to stay here when I don't know whether… whether…' She couldn't finish the sentence.
'But you need me to look after you.'
'Do I?'
'Yes, you do.'
She flashed an angry glance across the table, and then attacked her salad. She was so tense she was shaking. The plate clattered with each blow at the salad from her fork. She seemed to be making a superhuman effort to contain the turmoil within her.
I was losing her. I knew I was losing her.
'Lisa…'
She ignored me. Then after a few more seconds, she threw down her fork, pushed her plate away, and rushed from the room, head down, avoiding my eye.
I followed her. She went straight for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
I opened it. She was pulling a case down from the closet on to the floor.
'Lisa! What are you doing?'
'What does it look like I'm doing?'
'You can't leave!'
