Chapter 8 - WHAT CLAIRE KNEW
I expected the recording to make me feel stronger.
Instead, I listened to my husband discussing me like a locked drawer he had finally found a way to open.
Don asked whether I would notice the missing pages.
Jake said I trusted him.
Linda said trust was useful.
I turned the volume down.
Claire stood at the sink, holding the same clean plate for too long.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“What, Claire?”
She set the plate down.
“He called me Tuesday.”
Something inside me tightened.
“Jake?”
“He said you were helping his parents refinance. He asked whether Mom had left you anything besides the house.”
I stared at her.
“What did you tell him?”
“That the house was the main thing.”
She swallowed.
“I thought you knew.”
“Did you ask me?”
“No.”
There it was.
Another person deciding I didn’t need a question.
Another conversation about my life happening without me.
Claire began to cry.
“I’m sorry.”
I stood too quickly and the room tilted.
She reached for me.
I stepped away.
“I need a minute.”
In the spare bedroom, I shut the door.
I didn’t lock it.
Then I looked at the handle and locked it anyway.
Nobody knocked angrily.
Nobody ordered me out.
That difference nearly undid me.
An hour later, Claire slid a note beneath the door.
I should have called you. I didn’t. That’s on me. You don’t have to make me feel better.
I read it three times.
Then I opened the door.
“I need you to ask me before doing things for me,” I said.
“Okay.”
“Even if you think you’re helping.”
“Okay.”
“And give Maya everything he said.”
“I already wrote it down. I haven’t sent it.”
She held out the paper.
Waiting.
For my answer.
“Yes,” I said.
That afternoon, the dental office manager called.
Jake had contacted the office.
He claimed I’d been taking patient information home and asked whether anyone had noticed changes in my behavior.
My manager sounded uncomfortable.
“We have to look into a complaint.”
My job.
The one thing that had stayed mine.
“He’s trying to hurt me,” I said.
“I understand this is difficult.”
“No. I need you to hear what I’m saying.”
She put me on temporary leave while they checked.
Paid leave, she emphasized.
It still felt like another door closing.
Then my work email access stopped.
Ten minutes later, a forwarded message arrived from Nora.
May you like
Jake had written to the office again.
This time, he attached a document with my signature.
