Chapter 23: The Top of the Page

My mother-in-law's sitting room had one sofa, two chairs and a tea tray that had been set before we arrived.

She sat in the good chair with the leather notebook open on her knee.

"Sit," she said. "Both of you. And hand me that calendar."

I gave her my phone.

She put on her reading glasses and studied it for a long time, scrolling with one finger.

Red on Tuesday and Friday.

Green on Wednesday and Saturday.

Blue on Monday and Thursday.

And at the bottom, in gray, Husband (pending).

"Three years of weeks," she said, and turned the notebook around.

Every page had a date at the top and a single word underneath.

The word was No.

"I wrote it every Sunday night," she said. "A page for each week, and a No for each one. I thought it was efficient."

Phillip looked at his hands.

"I would like to cross them out," my mother-in-law said. "I can't find a pen I trust."

Phillip took the pen from his breast pocket, the one he had been allowed to hold, and passed it across.

She uncapped it.

"Before I do," she said, "I want a decision from the household. Beatrice. What happens now?"

I had spent the whole night on the answer, and it was short.

"My lovers stay," I said. "They keep their days. I'm not asking anyone to apologize for who is in my house."

Phillip didn't move.

"My husband comes off the bottom row," I said. "He doesn't get a day. He gets the top of the page."

"What does the top of the page mean?"

"It means the calendar is organized around him," I said. "And it means he doesn't wait in a hallway to find out when."

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