“Why?” Marissa’s voice was barely a whisper. “Why would you do this? You could keep all of it.”
“Because I’m not the only person that morning took something from,” I said. “And because I’m not doing it so you’ll like me. I need you to understand that. You don’t owe me friendship.”
I took a breath.
“But I do have one condition.”
“What?”
“You don’t ever call me his charity project again. Not to me, not to your kids, not to anyone. I was his wife. It only lasted ten days, but it was real.”
Marissa stood very still.
Then she unzipped her Kroger jacket, as if she’d finally decided to stay a while.
“Claire,” she said.
Just my name. Nothing else. No contempt in it.
It was enough.
Part 8: The Pause Where the Love Goes
That was eight months ago.
In January, I started the nursing program at Sinclair Community College. I cut my hours at Brookhaven to thirty a week. The $40,000 covers tuition, books, and the gap in my paychecks. If everything goes as planned, I’ll graduate in May of next year.
