Page 4 of Don't Leave Me
“Then stop saying naïve, foolish things. You know that’s not how it works. I check the box I’m an ex-con and that’s all any employer needs to know about me. Any success I have, it’s going to have to be done on my own. Which, in some ways, doesn’t scare me.”
“You’re capable of anything. You always have been. You can do or be anything you want.”
He smiled. “And you have always been my biggest cheerleader.”
I wanted to reach for his hand, but I refrained as I knew it would attract the attention of the guards. I didn’t want to think about them. I wanted to pretend we were in that same little lunch spot George and I had found. That we weren’t surrounded by other prisoners meeting with their loved ones. That we could smile at each other and touch each other how, and whenever we wanted, we were just choosing to be discreet. Which would be the case if we were on the outside. Marc was not one given to public displays of affection.
I folded my hands in my lap and just pretended that was the reason I wasn’t reaching for his hand. So he wouldn’t be embarrassed by my obvious affection.
“We covered me. Bored. We covered you. Sick. I’m out of chitchat.”
“That was a very Marc-like thing to say,” I told him. “Your grumpiness has never put me off before. We’ve got forty-five minutes of this visit left and I’m using every second.”
He barked out a laugh. “No, my grumpiness never has. Why is that?”
Because I loved him.
“Exceptional patience,” I said instead. “George taught me I had to have it when it came to you. George recently told me about his past. Did you know?”
Marc shook his head. “No, not until all this shit went down. When he knew I was going inside. He rattled off a list of dos and don’ts, and it was strange, but I suddenly felt closer to him than I ever have in the past.”
It made me sad. For George, and for the boy Marc had been, because he hadn’t let him get that close. “He loves you. He wanted to raise you, guide you, but you wouldn’t let him. You were too self-sufficient for that.”
His expression grew somber. “I couldn’t risk it. Not after what happened with her. Maybe that’s something else I can add to my list of regrets.”
My chest tightened and my stomach sank. Because it was the thing that scared me most. That someday I might be one of his regrets, too. How could I not be?
“Tell me what you’re reading. You said last time you had books. Are you reading fiction or nonfiction?”
“Both. All of it. It passes the time. Sometimes I can pretend I’m still studying. Like Princeton wasn’t a dream, but a reality. I’m also reading any how-to books I can get my hands on. Electrician work, plumbing.”
“Why?”
He leaned forward, thoughtful. “I told you the plan has changed. I never gave a rat’s ass about finance. I just knew if I had that skill, I could make a lot of money. Now I need another skill. Plumbers and electricians can make bank if they do it right. I’m going to need to find a way to build a life, a business, a home. Someplace you can go when you finally leave Evan. Speaking of which, when is that going to happen?”
I bristled at his name. “I don’t want to talk about him. This is our time.”
“No,” Marc said, and I could see him getting agitated. “I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about what he said he would do to you. He told me one of the advantages of having a sick wife is it would make it easier to get rid of you if he needed to. At first, I thought it was just some asshole threat, but I know now he means it.”
“He’s not going to do anything to me now,” I said, certain I was right. “He’s got exactly what he wants. Cover, and obedience from me.”
“Yes, but for how long, Ash? I know when I get out. Thirteen months and two days from now. How long is your sentence?”
I bit my bottom lip; my stomach was starting to roll again. I wondered if there was a bathroom for the visitors, in case I got sick. “I don’t know. Soon. Not forever. I just need to do it right. Bold statements ofI’m divorcing you, Evanare not going to get it done. But that’s my job. That task is on me, not you. All you have to do is get through these next thirteen months and two days.”
“You know that kills me, Ash. You know it kills me you’re left on your own to fight this battle.”
“I know. But you need to trust me. I can do this. I can do this for both of us. I just need time.”
It was what I’d told George, too. But that was always a question in my mind. How much time did I need? How much time did I have?
A week after my visit with Marc, I learned I didn’t have that much time at all.
