“I don’t remember.”
“You remember.”
Her attorney touched her arm slightly.
Rebecca ignored him.
“At first every day.”
My chest tightened.
“Then less.”
“For four months?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I told you. I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“You leaving.”
I stared.
“You told me to leave.”
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice rose slightly.
“I need you to explain that.”
Rebecca cried then.
Actually cried.
Not delicately.
Her face folded.
“I thought something was happening.”
“Nothing was.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew before October.”
“I knew you weren’t going somewhere every night.”
“That is not the same as trusting me.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“I became obsessed with knowing.”
The room was completely quiet.
Rebecca continued.
“When you were late, I looked.”
“When you changed routes, I looked.”
“If your phone location disappeared, I panicked.”
“Why?”
“I thought there was something I wasn’t seeing.”
“And when there wasn’t?”
She closed her eyes.
“I started thinking maybe I just hadn’t caught it.”
I looked at Helen.
She remained silent.
I understood what had happened.
Evidence of innocence had not reassured Rebecca.
It had become evidence that she needed to look harder.
“How does that become ‘I don’t love you anymore’?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Because I hated who I was becoming.”
That answer surprised me.
She continued.
“I hated checking.”
“Then stop.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could have told me.”
“I was ashamed.”
“So you ended the marriage.”
“I thought if we separated, I would stop.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rebecca’s voice became smaller.
“Because you left.”
I stared at her.
“You told me to.”
“I didn’t think you would disappear.”
The words hit exactly where I expected them to.
“You wanted me to beg.”
Rebecca shook her head.
Not convincingly.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I thought we would talk for weeks.”
“You said you felt nothing.”
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“At myself.”
“Then why say it to me?”
“I wanted something to change.”
“So you detonated the marriage.”
“I know.”
“And when I believed you, you followed me.”
“I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Stop saying that.”
Rebecca flinched.
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“You weren’t checking whether I was okay.”
“What was I doing?”
“Checking whether I still belonged to you.”
Her face went completely still.
Nobody in the room moved.
I continued.
“You didn’t want to be my wife.”
My voice shook.
“But you still wanted to know where I slept.”
Rebecca cried harder.
“You wanted to know whether I shaved.”
“I know how it looks.”
“How it looks?”