Chapter 12: Proof Against Himself

Tristram's POV

I watched my wife walk out of the courthouse holding another man's hand.

She had my book under her arm.

I had told her I never wrote one false line, and she had looked at me and kept walking.

I did not follow her.

There was nothing left I could say that she would believe.

My mother's lawyer touched my sleeve.

"Mr. Nordin, we need to leave through the garage. There are cameras at the front."

I let him steer me.

My mother sat in the back of the car with her purse on her knees.

She hadn't said a word since the judge spoke.

I took the seat beside her.

I looked out of the window at the parking lot until the lawyer shut the door.

Then I said, "You told her to ask me about the last page."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see if you'd tell her yourself."

She turned and looked at me. "You wouldn't, would you? You never do."

I had ticked every true claim and dated it, and then I had put the book back in the drawer.

I never once stopped my mother.

The book let me feel that I was doing something.

"You kept proof," my mother said now, mildly.

"Foolish boy. You kept proof against yourself."

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