Elise turned away.
Jonah stared.
I could not blink.
Randall cried the way I had cried on the floor when Wade brought the box. His whole body shook. He tried to inhale and failed, coughed, pressed both fists to his eyes, then looked toward our bedroom window again.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
My fingers dug into my knees.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I had not heard him call me that since before the divorce.
No.
Since before I knew there would be a divorce.
On the video he reached toward the phone mounted near the dashboard.
His finger hovered.
He pulled his hand back.
“No.”
He shut his eyes.
“No, no, no.”
A horn sounded somewhere down the road. He flinched, wiped his face with the heel of his hand, and tried to straighten.
“You go back in there,” he told himself, “and she’ll see it.”
His voice cracked.
