Die For You

“So that means you were sitting outside my building how long?”

“Since the coffee shop.”

She saw her own reflection in the back passenger-seat window, her expression, angry, incredulous.

“That’s not okay. That’s-that is-” She paused to compose herself. “That’s weird, Ben.”

She expected him to cow, to say he was sorry, to then drive off. Tomorrow she’d tell him that they couldn’t see each other any longer. Her family was in crisis and she needed to focus on them, refocus on her marriage. He’d see that it was the right thing. Maybe he’d go back to his family. But instead his face went still, the line of his mouth looked angry. He released a bitter laugh.

“I trashed my whole life for you, Linda. The least you can do is get in the fucking car.”

His words cut through the space between them, changing everything they were to each other. His tone was such a departure from anything she’d ever heard coming from his mouth that she looked at him hard for a second, hoping in a final moment of denial that he might be joking. He wasn’t.

“I never asked you to do that,” she said gently. She didn’t want to hurt or anger him any further than he obviously was already. She could feel his tension and it unnerved her. But she wanted, needed him to go away. “In fact, quite the opposite.”

“You didn’t have to ask!” he yelled, startling her. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he almost whispered. “In your heart, you know it’s what you want. I know that. I know you. That’s love, right? Knowing what the other person wants and giving it to them without their having to ask?”

He wasn’t looking at her. That was the weird thing. He was staring straight ahead as if she wasn’t even there. She felt the first cold finger of fear in her abdomen as he started an odd, rhythmic gripping and releasing of the wheel.

“Come on, Ben,” she said, forcing a coaxing gentleness into her voice. “Get some rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

He turned his head quickly and she saw the depth of his fatigue, a frightening glimmer in his eyes. She took an involuntary step back, afraid he was going to get out of the car. How had this happened? How did they get from where they were to this place?

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t sleep at all. I need you with me.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, her whole body shivering with cold and fear. There was something really wrong. She’d never even seen a shade of this in him. But, she realized, they didn’t really know each other well. Sex is not intimacy. Not really. Though he seemed to think it was.

She forced a smile to soothe him, moved closer to the car and rested her hand on his arm. He seemed to relax a bit, seemed more like himself. Then: “I think she was glad, you know, relieved that the charade was over. Erik will be, too. He might be as unhappy as you are.”

She kept the smile on her face, even though his words almost made her knees buckle. She nodded. “You might be right. I’ll talk to him. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He smiled then, too, and put his hand on hers. “I’m going to make you really happy, Linda. You’ll see.”

“I know,” she said. “Just get some rest now. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

She backed away from him, then turned and started walking back toward the hospital. Everything in her wanted to run. Her heart was an engine in her chest.

“Linda.” The tone in his voice-cold, dead-stopped her. But she didn’t turn around.

“You tell him,” he said flatly. “Or I’m going to.”

She started walking more quickly and heard him call after her one more time. This time she didn’t stop until she was under the bright lights inside. She ducked quickly into the bathroom and held on to the sink until the quaking in her body subsided. Then she ran to the nearest stall and vomited-bile, water, coffee. She sank to the floor and rested her head against the mental divider.

The phone in her pocket was ringing then. She didn’t recognize the number but she answered it.

“Hey, it’s me.”

She’d never been so happy to hear her husband’s voice. He was so good. So safe. She knew his failings were nothing compared to her own.

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound normal, “what’s going on? I’ve been calling and calling.”

“My phone died.”

“Where are you?”

In a whisper he told her about Camilla Novak and Isabel’s flight.

“She did what?”

“I didn’t tell the police. She didn’t mean it. She was just trying to give me a real reason for letting her go. It’s not like she would have shot me.”

“Oh my God.” What was it with everyone coming apart at the seams? Were they all stretched that thin? Just a little adversity and everyone broke in two? “Where are you now?”

“The police brought me in for questioning. They’re treating me-I don’t know. They seem suspicious, like they think I’m holding back.”

“Are you?”

“Just about the gun. And the fact that she took Camilla Novak’s purse.”

“What? Why?”

“Um, I don’t know. She wasn’t very… communicative. She’s, you know, on a mission. She thinks she can fix everything.”

She issued a sigh that turned into a sob. It surprised her, the sheer force of it. She couldn’t have held it back if she wanted.

“Linda. I need you with me, okay?” His request echoed Ben’s demands, making her sob harder.

“Are you still at the hospital?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Take the kids to my mother’s. She’s expecting you. Then come to the precinct.” He gave her the address.

“I’ll have to leave Fred here alone,” she said. “I promised Mom I’d wait for her.”

“She’ll understand.”

She nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see her.

“Linda,” he went on, “we’re going to be okay.”

“I’ve made mistakes, too. Big ones,” she managed, wiping at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. She wanted to confess so badly, tell him everything right then. But there could hardly be a worse time.

“Just come here,” he said. He sounded strong, in control. He was always exactly what she needed him to be. “And call that lawyer.”

“Okay,” she said, standing up, pulling herself together. “I’m coming.”

She didn’t know if Ben was still idling in the parking lot, and if he was, how she’d get herself and the kids out without him seeing her. But she would.

She quickly splashed some water on her face and exited the bathroom. In the wide empty foyer, she saw a frail, worried-looking woman gazing about, confused. She wore a trim navy blue coat and was toting a suitcase on wheels. It was a split second before Linda realized it was her mother; she seemed so out of place in the context of the mess of her life somehow.

“Mom.”

“Oh, Linda,” Margie said with relief. “What in the world is going on?”

Margie seemed to take in the all the details of her daughter’s being, her tousled hair, the shadow of mascara under her eyes, the coffee stain on her coat-all the things Linda had just been focusing on in the mirror. Margie’s brow sunk into a deep frown.

“What,” she repeated, “in the world is going on?”