Page 22 of The Honest Affair

Are you really getting divorced from that scumbag?

Did any of those motherfuckers at Rikers touch you?

Have you forgiven me for not believing you?

Have you forgiven me for not being there when you got out?

Will you ever forgive me…for all of it?

But before I could get up the nerve to ask anything, Nina reached into her purse and pulled out a pink envelope decorated with green heart stickers.

“Olivia made this for you,” she said quietly. “It came in the mail last week.”

With one slim finger, Nina pushed the letter across the bar toward me. “She wanted you to have it in time for your birthday. I apologize for not getting it to you sooner.”

I took the letter, which had my name scrawled across the front in a little girl’s naive, looping script. I tore it open and pulled out a hand-drawn card that had pictures of baseball and pizzas on it, along with the following written inside:

Dear Matthew,

I hope you’re having a good birthday and had a really big cake with your sisters and your family. I hope I get to meet them someday too and see you again.

xoxoxoxo,

Olivia

I staredat the note for a long time, trying to understand why such a short, perfunctory card from a nine-year-old girl I’d only spent a few days with seemed to tear my chest in two. I had received a few other “cards” for my birthday from my nieces and nephews. Equally childlike, with the same kinds of simple drawings and wooden messages.

But this one, sent of her own accord from the little blonde girl with soulful dark eyes…the one who called me Matthew like her mother and who fell asleep on my chest like it was the most natural thing in the world… Yeah, this one meant something more.

Then it occurred to me that I’d never told Olivia my birthday. But I had told her mother.

“You remembered,” I said. “My birthday, that is.”

“I remember everything about you, Matthew.” She didn’t sound like she was glad of the fact.

Yeah, well. I knew the feeling.

Her eyes were bright, but still disturbingly hardened, even in the bar’s dim light. So different from the soft, silky gray I had always found there, begging to wrap me in their warmth.

But there were other differences too. Her hair, though still glossy and bright, actually looked a bit duller than I remembered, and more than a few strands were out of place. Her lips were full and plump, but plain and unpainted. Under her eyes, shadows carved fatigue into her porcelain face.

“Hey,” I said as I reached out a hand. “Are you all right?”

She looked at my hand on the bar, but didn’t take it. Still, the pretense fell.

“It’s been difficult,” she admitted. “Very difficult. I don’t suppose you’ve been following the news—”

“Every word,” I cut in. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“Then you know. About the plea deal. And the divorce. You know things are…moving forward.”

I nodded. “I read something about it. But your case was sealed, right?”

She nodded.

“Good. So Cardozo won’t have to give it up to Calvin’s attorneys until later. But you had to go to Rikers, didn’t you?”

Nina shuddered. “Yes. I did. Fifteen days.”

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