Chapter 3: Behind Closed Doors
By morning, Vanessa behaved as though nothing had happened.
That unsettled Marcus more than anger would have.
She cooked eggs.
Packed Caleb's lunch.
Asked Jordan whether he had brushed his teeth.
When Marcus entered the kitchen, she even poured coffee into his favorite mug and placed it beside the toaster.
The performance was almost flawless.
Almost.
Jordan would not look at her.
Caleb noticed.
"Why's everybody acting weird?""
Vanessa smiled immediately.
"Nobody's acting weird.""
Marcus watched her.
Caleb looked toward Jordan.
"You mad at me?""
Jordan shook his head.
"No.""
"You sure?""
"Yeah.""
Marcus stepped in.
"Finish breakfast, guys. Bus comes in fifteen.""
The boys returned to eating.
Vanessa carried the skillet to the sink.
Marcus followed.
Quietly, he said, "We're talking after they leave.""
She continued rinsing the pan.
"About?""
He stared at her profile.
"Don't do that.""
"Do what?""
"Pretend.""
Her hand stopped under the running water.
Then she shut off the faucet.
"You want the truth?""
"I've been asking for it.""
Vanessa dried her hands.
"The truth is Jordan doesn't want me here.""
Marcus said nothing.
"He never did.""
"That doesn't explain what he told me.""
"He's manipulating you.""
"He's nine.""
"Children manipulate adults.""
Marcus studied her.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
"Especially grieving children.""
There it was again.
Grief turned into accusation.
Marcus stepped back.
The school bus arrived with a hydraulic hiss outside.
Both boys ran for their backpacks.
Jordan moved toward the door.
"Jordan.""
He turned.
Marcus opened his arms.
The boy walked into them.
Marcus hugged him longer than usual.
"I'll be here when you get home.""
Jordan nodded.
Vanessa watched from the kitchen.
Caleb hugged Marcus next.
"Love you, Dad.""
Marcus kissed the top of his head.
"Love you too.""
Caleb had begun calling him Dad six months after the wedding.
Marcus had never asked him to.
He had loved hearing it.
He still did.
That made everything harder.
The boys left.
The door closed.
Vanessa spoke first.
"You see the difference?""
Marcus turned.
"What difference?""
"Jordan barely acknowledges me. Caleb loves you like his real father.""
Marcus stared at her.
"Don't ever use Caleb's love as a weapon against Jordan.""
"I'm making a point.""
"No. You're keeping score.""
Her face changed.
"Maybe somebody has to.""
Marcus felt his stomach drop.
"What does that mean?""
Vanessa laughed without humor.
"You've spent this whole marriage overcompensating for Jordan.""
"For losing his mother?""
"For everything.""
She walked closer.
"If he wants something, he gets it. If he's upset, everybody stops. If he has a bad day, there's an explanation. Caleb doesn't get that.""
"Caleb has you.""
"So?""
"So his mother is alive.""
Vanessa's face hardened.
"That doesn't mean his feelings don't count.""
"I never said they didn't.""
"You didn't have to.""
Marcus shook his head slowly.
"This isn't about Caleb.""
"It is to me.""
The words landed heavily.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"You want honesty? Fine. I'm tired of pretending I don't see it.""
"See what?""
"This house revolves around Jordan and a dead woman.""
Marcus's expression went blank.
Vanessa realized she had stepped too far but kept going.
"Danielle's pictures are everywhere.""
"There are three.""
"Jordan talks about her constantly.""
"She's his mother.""
"And every holiday I have to hear what Danielle used to cook, what Danielle used to buy, where Danielle used to take him—"
"He's a child remembering his mother.""
"And I'm the woman living in her shadow.""
Marcus stared at his wife as if he had never seen her before.
Suddenly the photograph made sense.
The food.
The resentment.
The strange competition.
"You've been punishing him because you're jealous of Danielle.""
Vanessa scoffed.
"I'm not jealous of a dead woman.""
"You threw away her picture.""
"Because Jordan uses it to make a point.""
"He keeps it on his dresser.""
"He looks at it whenever he's angry with me.""
Marcus felt sick.
"You think a nine-year-old is strategically looking at his mother's photograph to hurt you?""
Vanessa said nothing.
That silence was worse than an answer.
Marcus walked toward the doorway.
"I'm taking today off.""
"Why?""
"I'm talking to the school.""
Vanessa's eyes sharpened.
"For what?""
"To find out if they've noticed anything.""
She followed him.
"Marcus, you're going too far.""
"You should have thought about that before my son started hiding pictures in his backpack.""
"He lied to you.""
"Then the truth shouldn't scare you.""
He grabbed his phone and keys.
Vanessa blocked the hallway.
"Are you trying to destroy our marriage?""
Marcus stopped.
"No.""
He looked straight at her.
"I'm trying to find out what happened inside it.""
At Jordan's elementary school, Marcus met with Ms. Hall, his teacher.
He expected little.
Instead, her expression changed the moment he asked whether Jordan had seemed different.
"I was planning to call you.""
Marcus sat straighter.
"Why?""
"He's been asking classmates for food.""
The words cut through him.
Ms. Hall continued carefully.
"Not every day. But several times.""
Marcus could barely speak.
"What kind of food?""
"Anything. Crackers. Fruit cups. Leftover snacks.""
"Why didn't anyone call me sooner?""
"We asked him if he had food at home. He said yes.""
Of course he did.
Jordan protected people.
Even people hurting him.
Ms. Hall opened a folder.
"There's something else.""
She pulled out a writing assignment.
The prompt at the top read:
DESCRIBE A PLACE WHERE YOU FEEL SAFE.
Jordan's handwriting filled half a page.
Ms. Hall slid it toward Marcus.
His answer was simple.
I feel safe at school because everybody gets the same lunch and nobody gets mad if I am hungry.
Marcus read it twice.
Then a third time.
The room blurred.
Ms. Hall placed a tissue box near him without speaking.
Marcus didn't cry.
Not yet.
He photographed the page.
Before leaving, he asked the counselor to document everything.
Then he drove home.
Vanessa's car was gone.
For a moment, Marcus thought she had left.
Then he entered the bedroom and noticed something on the bed.
A folder.
His name written across it.
Inside were bank statements.
Credit card bills.
And a printout showing monthly transfers from their joint account into an account Marcus did not recognize.
Hundreds of dollars at a time.
Sometimes over a thousand.
Marcus stared at the dates.
Most transfers happened on days he worked overtime.
At the bottom of the folder was a handwritten note.
Two words.
Ask Vanessa.
Marcus recognized the handwriting.
May you like
It belonged to his sister, Tasha.
And suddenly Marcus understood that somebody else had been watching his marriage too.
