Chapter 13: The Envelope

I stood on the corner of Alder Street and Ninth until the rain went through my coat.

There was a bus shelter, a dry cleaner with its grate pulled down, and a storm drain running over.

It was a quarter past six, and the light was almost gone.

I had been afraid of this corner for a week, and it was only a corner.

I took out my phone and typed to Declan with my thumbs shaking.

Write down that night. Everything, from the first drink. Have it brought to Bernadette's house in Edina tonight, in an envelope.

His answer came before I had put the phone away.

Yes. After that I'll stay away until you send for me.

I did not answer him.

I called Bernadette instead.

She came in twenty minutes, in her oatmeal coat, driving her husband's old Buick with the heater on high.

She looked at my wet hair and my face and asked me nothing.

"Get in," she said. "There's soup."

Her kitchen smelled of onions and lemon.

The anniversary cake still sat on the counter under its glass dome, with one slice gone.

"I couldn't eat it after Tuesday," Bernadette said. "And I couldn't throw it out. Sit."

She put a bowl in front of me, and a grilled cheese, and her late husband's grey cardigan around my shoulders.

I ate everything.

"Declan and I are finished," I said. "For now."

"Did he hurt you?"

"He lied to me. For a week."

Bernadette sat down across from me and folded her hands.

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