His Other Wife novel · Chapter 8 of 16

Chapter 8: Which One of You

"I wrote it," Jonathan said.

He said it fast. Too fast.

"I wrote every note of that symphony. It took me three years."

"The second movement took you a weekend," I said. "I remember. You said the melody 'came to you in the shower.'"

"It did!"

Clarissa stood up.

She smoothed her cream silk skirt and turned to the committee with the smile she used for photographers.

"I can settle this," she said. "I was there. Jonathan played me that theme on my piano the week he wrote it. I watched him compose it. Bar by bar."

"Which week was that?" the professor with the score asked.

"Three summers ago. In Paris."

"Three summers ago," I said.

"Yes."

"Noah is six."

Clarissa's smile stayed exactly where it was.

"That's not relevant."

"It is," I said. "Because I wrote it when he was eleven days old."

"Anybody can say that."

"You're right," I said. "Anybody can."

I pulled my cracked phone out of my sweater pocket.

I opened my voice memos.

I had never deleted a single one.

I scrolled all the way back, past years of grocery lists and reminders and Noah singing the alphabet wrong.

There it was.

A little gray file with no name.

The date under it was six years old.

I held the phone up so the whole table could see the date.

Then I pressed play.

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