Chapter 12: The Pill Pack

Lila left for the wedding at five on Saturday morning, and by six I was in her bathroom.

Tony had texted me one line: Come now. Back door. I found something.

He met me in the upstairs hall with the parking stub crushed in his fist.

"I called the clinic at opening," he said. "They won't tell a husband anything."

"She told you she was at the shop."

"Could be a checkup."

"Two hours is not a checkup."

"It could be a procedure."

"She'd have told me."

"Would she?" I said, and watched his face.

He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

I had learned in ten days that he did that when he was afraid.

"Help me look," he said. "I can't. I'll tear the place apart."

"Look for what?"

"I don't know. Anything with a date."

The master bathroom was bright and white, with two sinks.

Her side was neat.

I opened the cabinet under her sink and moved aside the hair products, a bag of cotton rounds, a shoebox of nail polish.

At the back, behind a plastic bin, was a small flowered travel bag.

Inside lay a blister pack of pills.

I took it out and held it up to the light.

I have been a nurse for seven years, and I know this pill.

"It's a birth control pack," I said.

Tony stood in the doorway.

"No."

"It is, Tony. This brand, this dose."

"We've been trying for four years."

"Look at the dates." I turned the pack so he could see.

The first two weeks of the month were empty.

The next two rows were full.