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Condemned by My Sister novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Table for Three

Marianne drags Eli to a seafood dinner; his nose bleeds onto the cloth and Corbin calls it an act; under the table Eli sees Corbin text, tell him what we agreed.

The restaurant had a lobster tank by the front door, and Corbin tapped the glass as we passed.

"They always have the best ones on Fridays," he said.

I had said no to the house, so Marianne had made me an offer in the car.

One dinner, she said, and then she would drive me to a hotel and pay for it.

I had $212 and nowhere else to sleep, so I said yes.

The hostess led us to a round table with a white cloth and a candle in a glass.

Marianne sat between us.

Corbin hung his cane on the back of his chair and smiled at me across the bread basket.

"I'm so glad you came, Eli," he said. "I ordered for all of us. It's a welcome home."

The waiter came with a silver tray and set a platter in the middle of the table.

It held two split lobsters, a pile of shrimp and a dish of crab legs.

Corbin took a shrimp and peeled it with careful fingers.

My stomach turned over.

"I can't eat any of this," I said.

"Eli," Marianne said, in the low voice she used on contractors.

"I'm allergic to shellfish. You know that. I nearly died when I was eight."

"Oh, no." Corbin put a hand over his mouth. "I forgot. I'm so sorry."

He did not take the platter away.

Marianne looked at the table and then at me.

"You can have the bread," she said. "Don't make a scene on your first night."

I had been in a cell block that morning.

I did not know how to tell her that a plate of shrimp was not the scene.

"Marianne, I'm sick," I said. "I don't mean the allergy. I have leukemia. I got the diagnosis yesterday."

Corbin's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

Marianne did not move at all.

Then she let out a short laugh.

"Yesterday," she said. "The day before you got out. Convenient."

"It's true."

"Eli, I've been your emergency contact for five years. Nobody has called me about you being sick."

"Because they only found it yesterday."

A warm drop landed on the tablecloth.

It was red and round, and it spread into the white.

I touched my nose and my fingers came away wet.

Another drop fell, and then three more.

Marianne pushed a napkin across the table.

Her hand stopped an inch from mine, and I saw it shake.

For half a second I thought she was going to say something else.

Then Corbin sighed.

"He did the same thing in prison," he said gently. "Somebody on staff told me. Eli would get a nosebleed whenever he wanted a day off from the laundry."

"That isn't true."

"Is it?" Marianne asked him.

She was not talking to me.

"I can't prove it," Corbin said. "I just don't want you to be hurt again, Marianne. You've had enough of him lying to you."

My hands were shaking, and I pressed the napkin against my face.

"Call Dr. Ellerker," I said. "He's the prison doctor. Call him right now and ask."

Marianne looked at the red napkin and at the bread basket and at her own folded hands.

"No," she said. "Not tonight. Tomorrow I'll take you to him myself."

She pulled out her phone, told her assistant to clear her morning, and put the phone face down.

"Ten o'clock," she said. "If this is another act, Eli, I will hear it from his own mouth."

"Fine."

"Fine," she said.

Corbin leaned down to pick up his napkin.

The table was low, and the cloth did not reach the floor.

His phone was in his other hand, and it lit up under the edge of the cloth.

I was bleeding into a napkin and trying not to be sick, but I could read that screen.

The message was already sent, and it was addressed to Doc P.

It said: Tomorrow at ten. Tell him what we agreed.

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