Page 84 of Rook

“Exactly. But I think even Nancy believed her lie. So much so that she didn’t have a clue that her husband had been fucking his assistant for six years.”

“Six?”

“Right? It’s awful. But also, almost impressive. Until one fateful day, a man on parole breaks into their home, expecting it to be empty. Only, he catches Mr. Bird just coming out of the shower. He panics. And then beats him to within an inch of his life.”

“So, did he just have a Come to Jesus moment, or…”

“I think maybe it was partly that. But also a forced hand.”

“How so?”

“Well, the idiot had his girlfriend’s number as his emergency contact. Along with his wife. My best guess is the nurse knew what she was doing and called both women. Which raised some questions.”

“I feel like Nancy would have tried to just… pretend it never happened.”

“She probably did. But if her husband was tired of the lie and wanted to live with the woman he loved…”

“So, it’s not that Nancy is bitter because someone hurt the man she loved; someone took from her the life she loved.”

“Precisely. Sounds like the husband hired a real shark, too. Left her with next to nothing but her car and a measly alimony payment.”

“So, she needed to work for the first time in her adult life. And she chose to punish everyone on parole for her husband’s lies.”

“Seems like it.”

“Huh,” I said, putting my empty plate down and reaching again for my coffee. “I almost feel a little bad for her now that I know.”

“I probably would too. If she wasn’t keeping me from my mom.”

“True. About that. When do you want me to go? Are there specific visiting days, or do I need to set up an appointment?”

“They have set visiting days and hours, but I think you are probably going to need to call to make sure that her current treatment plan allows for visitors right now.”

“Okay. I’ll do that today.”

“You don’t have—”

“I want to. I know how important it is to you. I know we are hoping the doctors are doing everything they can, but if I get eyes in there, maybe you could see something they don’t. Can I bring my phone?”

“From what I know about most facilities, no. They worry that they could be used to self harm, or risk the privacy of other patients, that sort of thing.”

“What about presents? Can I bring her something that might help, I don’t know, tether her more to reality? To you?”

“That’s a really good idea,” Rook said, already reaching for his phone.

“What are you looking for?”

“An old stuffed Dalmatian, like the one she bought me as a baby. Some comfort items without strings. And maybe some old pictures of me or us, if I can still find them anywhere.”

I knew right then that I’d lost him, that whatever intimacy we’d been sharing, the promise of more that we’d been heading toward, was gone.

I should have been relieved.

But all I felt was a crushing sort of disappointment.

Instead of letting myself stew in it, though, I cleaned up our cups and plates, showered, dressed, then called Rook’s mom’s facility, asking the questions I had about visitation.

We spent the afternoon making plans and picking out comfort items.

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