Chapter 11: Her Voice

Cissy came into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside the open hatbox.

She did it slowly, with her skirt gathered in one hand.

"You went through my wardrobe," she said.

"You stole our letters," Hayden said.

"I kept them safe."

"Thirty of mine and fourteen of hers."

"I kept them safe," Cissy said again, and her voice was calm.

Lydia held the postcards against her chest.

"You forged the divorce papers," she said. "You sent them from this house, on a letterhead you typed yourself."

Cissy looked at her for a long moment.

Then her face crumpled, and tears came down it.

"I was so frightened," she said.

"You had both left me. Hayden stopped eating."

"I only wanted to hold you both until you were ready."

"Stop it," Hayden said.

"I wanted you to be happy."

"You wrote that she hoped I'd rot."

"She did." Cissy lifted her wet eyes. "She said it herself."

Lydia felt sick.

"I never said that to you."

"Didn't you?"

Cissy opened her small beaded purse and took out her phone.

She tapped the screen twice, and held it up between them.

A voice filled the room, thick with sobs.

It was Lydia's voice.

*"Tell Hayden I never want to hear his name again. Tell him I hope that house falls down on his head."*

*"I'm done. I'm so done. I never want to see either of you."*

The recording ended with a click.

Nobody moved.

Lydia's mouth had gone dry.

She remembered the airport bathroom, and the stall, and the phone against her face.

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