Still, “reenlistment” jarred Val, as she knew it must have jarred her wife, and if Julie kept pushing his buttons after he said that, had pushed hard enough to drive him out the door and possibly back to that option, except this time they didn’t know where he was, when every time before they’d at least known a general spot on the map to focus their worry?
Julie still hadn’t said anything about Sophie’s issue, either. Yet another lie, or lie of omission, which didn’t feel like it even belonged in this conversation and yet was intertwined with it. Since when did they lie to each other like this? All these droplets, these individual forgivable omissions, added up to an unforgiveable ocean. Walking out hadn’t been a very David move, but Val felt the reasonableness of it now.
She was tired, she’d had a beer and chili, the sun had long since set, but she went up to the bedroom, changed into running clothes, dug out her headlamp—the battery of which miraculously still held a charge—and headed out into the darkness; she didn’t have any other idea what to do to escape the feeling they were failing, they had failed, the mistakes outnumbered the successes. There were no mistakes in running, not if you were careful where you placed your feet.
Her parents had been loud people. Not shouters, just loud, taking out frustrations in their footsteps, in thrown objects, so that any spare money went into replacing the things they had broken. She remembered sitting trapped in her room at twelve, at thirteen, while their possessions crashed into walls, and it was like the door wasn’t even closed. Despite their warnings that it wasn’t safe to leave at night, she started slipping through the window to run when they fought. She could outrun whatever was bad out there, and whatever it was couldn’t be worse than being trapped listening to silence shatter.
She knew she was capable of that same loudness, had it in her bones, her genes, though she hated giving over to it; given the choice, she’d rather run. All of which was why she’d tried to instill in their kids the opposite of the trapped feeling, and why she was glad David had chosen to go, given what Julie had said, and furious that Julie had put him in that position. They’d spent so long trying to create a home as haven, only to ruin it in a few words.
When she returned, the kitchen light was still on. She didn’t enter. Instead, she went to the basement and grabbed clean clothes from the load she’d done that morning. She showered in Sophie’s shower and then went into Sophie’s bedroom and closed the door, knowing the kid wasn’t coming home anytime soon. She hadn’t even gotten to Sophie’s issue. She lay in Sophie’s bed and listened until she heard Julie’s trudging footsteps on the stairs, their bedroom door opening, Julie’s sigh, their bedroom door closing. Two doors between them, two angry children, too many lies.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
DAVID
QUIET
Quiet
quiet
quiet
quiet
quiet
Quiet was everything David had been looking for, the only thing he had ever wanted. For the first time in his adult life, he had a blanket of Quiet that he could pull over himself all day long, even if Karina gave him dirty looks. If he let the Quiet run out he heard them whispering about him.
Karina was on day shifts these days, but usually went to the gym after to push tires or swim in barbed wire or drag ropes or something. She returned sweaty and smiling tightly at him. “How’s the job hunt going, David?”
“I had a couple of calls today.” That was a stretch. His phone had rung twice from numbers he didn’t recognize, and he’d answered. Neither was job related. One was his credit card calling to tell him his payment had bounced, the other a robocall suggesting if he gave them his bank info they’d consolidate his student loans. He didn’t have student loans, so the joke was on them.
The only other calls had been from his parents. If it was Julie, he ignored it. If it was Val, he ignored it with a side of guilt. Sometimes he muted the phone entirely, but then he worried he’d miss a call from a nonexistent job offer or interview. So he left the phone on, but took enough Quiet to drown it out; if he didn’t hear it, he didn’t have to feel bad about not answering.
“How about apartments?”
He shook his head. “I called about one, but they said I needed to show my income was three times the rent, which it isn’t.”
“Argh. What about a room in someone’s house?”
“They’re a bit thin on the ground. I don’t know if it’s the wrong time of year or I scare them off somehow or they’re all doing short-term rentals for more money . . .”
She nodded and sighed. Only when she’d walked past into the bedroom had he realized it would have been polite to ask how her day had been. Better yet, if he’d gotten himself off the couch to make dinner an hour ago, so they’d all have a chance to eat together before Milo headed out.
Milo was in the bedroom getting ready for work. Through the thin wall, David heard Karina ask Milo how long David would be on their couch. “I know he’s your best friend, but this place is too small for three people. I can’t even tell if he’s looking.”
“Give him time, baby,” Milo said. “He’s trying. I was here all day today. I’d know if he wasn’t
