Colleen asked to meet me.
Marcus told me I did not have to.
I agreed anyway.
Public place.
Daytime.
Dana came with me.
Colleen looked smaller than I remembered.
Not physically.
Morally.
She sat across from me.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
“I thought he would turn himself in.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“You let me bury him.”
She started crying.
I did not move.
Colleen explained the hospital.
Adrian had been treated under another temporary identifier because he had no wallet.
He was conscious.
The police believed the dead man was Adrian.
Colleen realized what had happened.
Adrian begged her not to correct them immediately.
He told her about Eric.
The money.
The investigation.
He said he needed forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours became a funeral.
Then a death certificate.
Then insurance claims.
Then three months.
“Why did you hold my hand?”
Her face collapsed.
“I hated myself.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I didn’t know how to stop it.”
“You could have told the truth.”
“I was afraid Adrian would go to prison.”
There it was.
Her son.
Before truth.
Before Eric’s family.
Before me.
“I loved you,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“No.”
She flinched.
“You loved the version of me that didn’t threaten your son.”
She had no answer.
Colleen reached for my hand once.
I moved mine.
She noticed.
So did Dana.
No one said anything.
Colleen said she thought I would expose Adrian.
She was right.
I would have told the truth.
That was exactly why she avoided me.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Some days I was angry.
Some days I was bored by the case.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
The ordinary days became more important than the dramatic ones.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I kept working because work gave the hours a shape.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I let other people carry parts of the legal process for me.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I learned that unanswered questions can exist without controlling the whole day.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I stopped measuring healing by whether I cried.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Some days I was angry.
Some days I was bored by the case.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
The ordinary days became more important than the dramatic ones.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I kept working because work gave the hours a shape.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I let other people carry parts of the legal process for me.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I learned that unanswered questions can exist without controlling the whole day.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I stopped measuring healing by whether I cried.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Some days I was angry.
Some days I was bored by the case.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
The ordinary days became more important than the dramatic ones.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I kept working because work gave the hours a shape.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I let other people carry parts of the legal process for me.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I learned that unanswered questions can exist without controlling the whole day.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I stopped measuring healing by whether I cried.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Some days I was angry.
Some days I was bored by the case.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
The ordinary days became more important than the dramatic ones.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I kept working because work gave the hours a shape.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I let other people carry parts of the legal process for me.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I learned that unanswered questions can exist without controlling the whole day.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
I stopped measuring healing by whether I cried.
Colleen asked whether I hated her.
I said:
“I don’t know you well enough anymore to answer that.”
Her face changed more than if I had said yes.
Some days I was angry.
Some days I was bored by the case.
Cliquez ici pour continuer la lecture : PARTIE 8 : The bride discovers who I am and realizes her wedding began with a lie she was never supposed to question
Colleen sees me outside the groom’s room and realizes the funeral lie is about to collapse #11
Part 7 of 16
