Chapter 10: The Back Seat

"He was driving," Bethany said.

I heard the words, and they did not mean anything to me yet.

"Who was?"

"Colby. The night his brother's wife died. Colby was the one behind the wheel."

Three tables away, Bridget's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.

I kept my hands flat on the table.

"Nathaniel was in the car," I said. "He remembers a dinner, and wine, and an ambulance."

"He was in the back seat."

"He told me his wife was laughing in the passenger seat."

"She was. He was right behind her."

Bethany wiped her face.

"They'd been at Gerald's birthday dinner. Nathaniel had two glasses of wine, so Colby said he'd drive them home."

"He told everyone he hadn't been drinking."

"Had he?"

"He'd been drinking since four in the afternoon."

She laughed, and it came out as a sob.

"He told me all of it, two years ago, on the anniversary. He cried so hard he couldn't breathe."

"What did he say?"

"He ran the car off the road on Kelham Pike."

"It hit the guardrail on the passenger side. She died on the way to the hospital."

"And Nathaniel?"

"Hit his head on the window. He didn't wake up until the ambulance."

My throat had closed.

"Colby had glass in his arm," Bethany said quietly.

"He tied his shirt around it and sat on the road to wait for the sirens."

"His father's car pulled up before the police did."

I saw the pale scar on my husband's forearm.

I saw it on the pillow between us, and on the video, resting on my bridesmaid's hip.

A glass door in the garage, he had told me.

Four years ago in March.

I felt the cafeteria tilt.

"Gerald was there," I said.

"Gerald made a phone call, and then he took Colby's keys out of his hand."

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