PART 5
Then she looked at me.
“I am so sorry.”
I believed her.
Because for the first time since she had entered my salon months earlier, she wasn’t trying to win anything.
She was just discovering she’d been lied to too.
I picked up my appointment book.
The little black book I’d kept hidden beneath towels for months.
I opened it.
“Would you like to know something, Ashley?”
She nodded.
I turned the book around.
Every Thursday.
Every visit.
Every statement.
Every dollar amount.
The condo.
The boat.
The account.
The ring.
The supposed divorce.
The supposed separation.
The debt.
Her face changed as she read.
“You wrote all this down?”
“Every word.”
She looked at Dale.
“You told me she never paid attention.”
I closed the book.
“She paid attention.”
Patrice took the folder.
“Carol, we’re done here.”
Dale finally reached for my arm.
I stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand fell.
“Carol, please.”
It was the first time I’d heard him say please in years.
And strangely, it didn’t hurt.
It made me tired.
Twenty-six years of marriage suddenly felt like a house after a fire.
You could still see the walls.
You could still recognize the rooms.
But everything inside had changed.
Dale lowered his voice.
“We can fix this.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Carol—”
“You’ve been fixing it for years.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve been moving money. Changing documents. Lying about debt. Signing my name.”
I pointed toward the folder.
“You weren’t trying to save our marriage.”
His eyes lowered.
“You were trying to make sure I paid for your escape.”
He had no answer.
Patrice placed her hand lightly on my shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
I nodded.
But before I walked away, I looked at Ashley.
She was standing beside the door, holding the engagement ring box.
She opened it.
The diamond caught the light.
Then she closed it.
“I don’t want this anymore.”
She placed the box on the counter.
Beside my notary stamp.
Then she walked out.
Dale followed her.
But at the doorway, he stopped.
He looked back at me.
For a moment, I saw the man I’d married at twenty-seven.
The man who had danced with me in our tiny apartment kitchen.
The man who had held our daughter’s hand when she was born.
The man who had promised me forever.
Then I remembered the signature.
And I realized something.
Maybe that man had existed once.
Maybe he hadn’t.
Either way, he was gone.
Dale left.
The door closed.
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