Chapter 10: The Original

I went to the penthouse on Wednesday night, alone, and used the brass key.

Rhodri had left the lamp on in the study and gone up to the roof.

He had told the doorman to let me in and to say nothing.

I stood in the doorway for a full minute before I crossed the room.

The desk was dark walnut, with a steel pen tray and a photograph of his grandfather in a frame.

The second drawer on the left was locked with a second key, tiny, taped to the underside of the first.

Of course it was.

I opened it.

On top lay a document bound in a blue folder, and I knew it before I touched it.

Contract of Marriage, twelve rules, sixteen pages.

The original.

I turned to page three.

There in the margin were the twelve rules, typed neatly, and beside the first one there was handwriting.

My handwriting.

I knew the slant of my own ones and sevens.

Rule 1: No feelings. Not now, not ever. I mean it. If you fall, I leave, and it will kill me. J.M.

And beside it, in a small blue square, were his initials.

R.G.

I had written that.

I had written it at midnight in a cold glass conference room a year ago, with my mother's bead cutting into my palm.

I had watched my father sell my mother's love for money until there was nothing left to sell.

I had told Rhodri that if anyone was going to leave me, it would be a bargain with an end date.

Then I'd see it coming.

He had read it twice and looked at me for a long time.

Then he'd initialed.

I remembered thinking, he doesn't even argue.

Under the contract was a stack of cream envelopes tied with kitchen string.

Twelve of them.

They were numbered one through twelve in his strong upright hand, and each one said Juliana.

The paper was soft at the corners from handling.

I untied the string.

My fingers were not working properly.

I opened number six.

I did not touch you tonight.

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