Elise made a sound that might have been a laugh if it had not been so sad.
“He said she couldn’t keep soup down. Said Jonah found her asleep at the kitchen table. Said she asked whether I’d contacted a lawyer about the house.”
I remembered that night. My cheek had stuck to the polished wood, and when Jonah woke me, I had insisted I was only resting my eyes. I had been furious that Randall was absent even from the practical ugliness—mortgage documents, insurance forms, the division of furniture.
Onscreen Randall’s eyes filled. “I picked up the phone.”
He held it toward the camera. My name was visible on the screen.
MERYL.
My breath caught.
“I got as far as pressing call.”
He laughed faintly, ashamed of himself. “Then I hung up before it rang.”
“You bastard,” I whispered.
Randall could not hear me. The recording had been made months before he died, but the insult left my mouth as if it could cross the distance.
