Page 104 of A Better World

Russell opened his device and turned the screen to face her. Their bank app was opened, and the balance was laughably low. “What drives me wild is that you don’t know anything. But you’re taking it upon yourself to blow up our lives.”

His words hit, but they made her angry, too. “What’s the deal with Omnium?”

He paled.

“Josie and I went to the PV Dump. The sludge—this Omnium sludge—has an awful smell. Does it cause make people sick? If I accessed the cancer or aplastic anemia or birth defect incidence in Hami, China, would the numbers be through the roof? Is that why they moved production out of PV? Is that why they hired you, because you can cover it up?”

He reddened. “I told you. I don’t have any data that supports what you’re saying. And honestly, that’s insulting. I worked for this. Iearnedthis.”

“Have you seen the sludge?”

His face went to stone. Muscles tense, chin locked. “It’s safe. Every study says so.”

Linda ran out of gas. There was no point in this. She needed data. But she had the awful feeling that he had the data. It was on that laptop. Maybe he’d gone so far down the rabbit hole of justifications that he didn’t know it, himself. But he was lying.

“Everything I’ve ever done has been for you. Even this town, I did it for you.”

“This wasn’t for me,” she said. “It wasn’t for Josie, who’s falling apart. It wasn’t for Hip, who’s turning into a jerk.”

“It’s always for you,” he said. He was looking her right in the eyes and he seemed sad. Disconsolate, even. Like it was tragic that she wouldn’t believe him. Like they’d be fine right now, if she’d just trust him. The problem here was her lack of faith.

The whole thing was so confounding, so confusing. “Why are you being like this?” she asked, high pitched and trying not to cry.

“We could work here. We could live and be happy. All you have to do is shut up.”

“But Russell,” she said, standing now. She hated the squeaking sound of the defeat in her voice. “They’re lying.”

Russell came over and stood beside Linda. He took her hands in his, full of concern. “You’re pushing yourself too hard on this. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. I’m worried you’re having a nervous breakdown.”

She didn’t know what came over her. She’d never done anything like it in her life. She swung her hand back, slapped him. Then she stomped out, furious and on fire.

He stayed downstairs, and slept down there, too. She went up. Pacing like an animal, she started packing her clothes. But the winter items were bulky, and she didn’t have enough bags for all the mementos—the photo albums and her wedding dress. And how would she transport all these bags?

She stopped packing. Even if she figured out a rental car service, who’d take her account on a handshake? She needed to lease a home, still, and figure out where that home ought to be. It was too late to wake the kids. They’d need an explanation, and even after she providedit, Hip wouldn’t go along. Probably, it would be best to just lie—stick both kids in the car and tell them she was taking them on a vacation.

But lying’s not okay.

…Was she ready to leave Russell?

She stopped packing. She sat up half the night, wheels spinning.

Wednesday

The next morning, she came down early to the kitchen, intending to keep the kids home from school and have a talk with them. But Russell was waiting. “I think you should keep all this to yourself,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“You’ll upset them. They’ll worry about you. Like I’m worried about you.” She noticed that his shirt buttons were mismatched, the left tail longer than the right. He hadn’t shaved, either. “Say I believe you, what’s to be gained?”

Linda held her head. Which was hurting. She’d lied about migraine aura before, and now she was having a real one.

“Russell, how bad is Omnium?”

“Just stop it,” he said.

He took the kids to school. She heard the car door shut, the purring solar engine of Russell’s sedan. Then the house was empty. Even Esperanza wouldn’t arrive for another couple of hours.

She went to Russell’s office. He still hadn’t cleaned. On the floor, several pairs of cast-off shoes. What was new since last night: statistics texts opened to random pages, which meant he’d been ignoring the software’s algorithms and doing the work by hand. After sixteen years, she couldn’t help it. She carried the dishes to the kitchen, tidied the floor, collected the shoes by their heels and set them outside the door. Then she opened his screen.

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