Chapter 7: Leonard's POV: The Video

Leonard's POV

I watched my wife laugh on a phone screen at six in the morning in a rented flat in Philadelphia.

I watched it until the battery warning came on.

My mother had sent me the link with no message, which was how she sent bad news.

Leah was spinning under an old man's arm, her braid coming undone, her mouth open.

I had been married to her for five years and I had never once seen her do that.

I had seen her smile, politely, at my mother's table.

I had seen her laugh quietly into a pillow, once, at a joke I'd forgotten.

I had never seen her take up a whole room.

The video ended and I played it again.

Imogen was asleep on the sofa six feet away, her left leg propped on three cushions, a pink scar under the bandage.

The surgery had gone well.

They said six weeks before she could walk without the cane, and I had promised her I would be there for every one of them.

On the table in front of me lay the folder Leah had left on my desk.

I had carried it back from Boston in my bag.

The signed pages.

The ring.

The note, in her upright, careful hand: I will not fight you for anything.

She would not.

That was what frightened me.

I could have survived anger.

I had been ready for anger for seven years.

I took my wallet out of my jacket and slid my thumb behind the license.

There was a small black memory card in a plastic sleeve, no bigger than a fingernail, with a strip of masking tape across it.

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