“It wasn’t that bad. But I’m serious, did something change? Or were you never really able to enjoy that with him? Was that . . . not real?”
I could tell that the latter explanation made her feel sad for me, as if I had missed something important in my life. The answer to all of her questions, I suspected, was yes. It was . . . complicated. I have no way of knowing what I would have been like if I had never gotten into Charles Franklin’s car. But I did know that when I read magazines like Cosmo or Elle, or overheard women gossiping about sex at the parties I catered, I didn’t feel like I was as comfortable with sex—or as happy about it, or as eager for it—as I was supposed to be. It’s not as if I hated it, or even disliked it. I enjoyed the closeness of it, and had learned to appreciate the physical pleasure that came with it. I just didn’t need it or necessarily want it, other than as an indication that my marriage was normal—that I was normal.
I saw no reason to explain all of that to Susanna right now, because her first question was the one that really mattered. Yes, something had changed in my relationship with Jason.
I decided to tell her. If I was going to tell anyone, it should be Susanna. “The last time we were together was three years ago, and I freaked out.”
“What do you mean? Like a flashback?”
I was surprised that she used that precise word. I had only spoken to her once about my flashbacks, and only for the purpose of explaining why I had no interest in writing a book, doing an interview, or going to therapy. Other than the rare flashback . . .
“I don’t know,” I said. “Sort of. But it was bad. I cried, and we fought, and—” I was surprised at how upset I was getting, remembering what had happened that night.
“Sex with your husband shouldn’t make you cry. If you were having a hard time, because of what you went through, he should have understood. And sometimes people simply aren’t in the mood. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.”
“He—I don’t think he knew.”
“He didn’t know what?”
“That I didn’t want to—” I was shaking my head, beginning to cry.
“Angela, please, it’s me. Just tell me. If Jason did something to you that you didn’t want him to do—”
I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of voices. Jason was back from his meeting with Olivia, and Colin was with him. I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve and put on a smile.
Jason paused to give me a quick kiss on the head and to say hello to Susanna, and then headed upstairs. He closed the door of his den.
I asked Colin how the meeting with Olivia went.
“She actually said the civil lawsuit was good news.”
“Someone might try explaining that to Jason,” Susanna said. “I’ve got to be honest: he looks worse than I even expected.”
Colin glanced up the stairs to make sure that Jason was out of earshot. “Honestly, I think part of him was still in denial. He really thought this was going to go away. Today was a wake-up call. The university’s going after him, plus three major clients called FSS today and pulled out.”
I found myself wondering whether Jason had planned to tell me about the clients.
“None of that sounds like good news,” Susanna said.
“Olivia thinks it might be,” Colin explained. “The civil case makes Kerry look greedy, which plays into what Jason’s been saying all along. Olivia says she can use it to call into question Kerry’s motive.” I hated hearing that woman’s name used in my house. “Plus, a civil suit means we can use civil discovery.”
He must have realized that I hadn’t followed his last point.
“Civil cases have different rules for getting access to evidence. In a criminal trial, prosecutors sit tight on most information. But now that Kerry has sued, Olivia can demand access to the evidence because it’s relevant to the civil suit. Most importantly, Olivia can depose Kerry, meaning she can question her without a jury sitting there.”
I noticed that he was only talking about Kerry, as if Rachel didn’t even matter.
“So does that mean Martinez can depose Angela?” Susanna asked. I hadn’t thought of the possibility.
“I suppose, but I can’t imagine why she would.” Susanna gave my hand a brief squeeze as Colin tried to strike a lighter tone. “Trust me: She was going to sue him eventually, so it’s better that she did it in time to screw up the criminal case. Now, I’m going to drag Jason out of his office so I can make the two of you eat something.”
As Colin walked up the stairs, Susanna placed her hand on my forearm and jumped right back into our previous conversation. “You need to tell me what happened between you.”
I shook my head. For three years, I had blamed myself for breaking what I hoped was only a small part of our marriage. Now I didn’t know what to think. What I did know was that I still wasn’t ready to talk about it.
We ate lunch at Lupa in silence. While the waiter was running Susanna’s credit card—she insisted—Jason got a text message from Olivia Randall. She was filing a motion for access to all evidence held by the NYPD and the district attorney’s office. She also wanted to suspend the criminal case against him while the civil suit was pending.
“So what does that mean?” Jason asked, looking to Colin.
“Do it,” Colin said. “You hit pause on the criminal charges to deal with the civil case first. If you reach a financial agreement, the criminal charges might go away.”
Susanna shot me a concerned look. Colin was already talking about a settlement. I heard Jason’s phone bloop as he hit the send key.
“I told you that lawsuit might be a blessing in disguise,” Colin said as we walked out of the restaurant.
Nothing about this felt blessed.
Spencer called that night from camp. Jason was home, but Spencer refused to talk to him. I wanted to tell him how much his father needed to hear his voice, but the whole point of sending him away had been to protect him from what was happening at home.
“How long do you plan to freeze him out?” I asked.
“However long he was cheating on you. How does that sound?”
He had only been gone four days, and it felt like I hadn’t seen him for months. I tried to tell myself it was worth it. At least in his mind, his father’s only crime was an affair. But camp wouldn’t last forever.
37
“What do you know about Mozambique?”
Thanks to all their calls on the Jason Powell case, Corrine immediately recognized the number as ADA Brian King’s. “You’re kidding me, right? I’m African American, not East African.”
“That’s not what I meant. And you at least knew it was in East Africa, so you know more than I do.”
“Why the geography quiz?” she asked.
“I was reading up on Kerry Lynch’s employer.”
Corrine knew that Powell’s attorney was threatening to turn the trial into an indictment of Kerry’s employer for some kind of kickback scheme.
“Is it bad?” Corrine asked.
“I have no idea. I just wasted an hour educating myself on private water companies that serve developing countries. Getting clean water into those areas of the world can literally save lives, but it also involves doing business with some sketchy regimes.”
“Sketchy regimes? Is that an official State Department designation?”
“What am I, the Council on Foreign Relations? This stuff’s way over my head. Apparently a bunch of companies have stopped doing business in parts of the world that are most in need of water. Oasis, on the other hand, continues to land privatization contracts, making them darlings among Jason Powell’s crowd.”
“But maybe raising questions about how they’re able to venture where others won’t?”