Chapter 14
The first Christmas after the trial terrified me.
Mia wanted me to leave town.
Robert offered his cottage.
I almost said yes.
Then I looked at the dining room.
My dining room.
No Evelyn.
No Daniel.
No table where I was slapped.
Just space.
I invited people who had told the truth.
Mia.
Robert.
Patricia.
Two neighbors who checked on me after the police came.
My coworker Jenna, who brought terrible pie and excellent wine.
No one ordered me into the kitchen.
Everyone cooked.
Everyone cleaned.
When I carried soup to the table, my hand trembled.
Mia saw.
She stood and took the pot with me.
“Together,” she whispered.
We set it down.
No slap.
No insult.
No husband sighing at my pain.
Just Robert raising a glass.
“To Arthur,” he said.
I added, “And to doors that open.”
Everyone drank.
After dinner, Patricia cried by the tree.
“I miss who I thought Evelyn was,” she said.
I understood that.
I missed who I thought Daniel was.
Grief for imaginary people is still grief.
I touched her shoulder.
“Me too.”
May you like
That night, after everyone left, I sat by the tree.
For the first time, the house felt quiet without feeling lonely.
