Julia called Sylvie when the sun rose, then showered and put some care into her appearance. She would set the stage for her new life by making sure the woman in the mirror looked presentable. She’d always believed in dressing for the part she wanted, and she didn’t want to appear like a disheveled victim. Julia remembered her childhood self twirling into a room, singing, Ta-da! She took her time in front of the mirror and put on some lipstick and a little eyeliner. She wove her hair into a neat updo. When Julia was fully dressed, she left a professional-sounding message on Professor Cooper’s machine, explaining that she was available to work and that she was sure she could bring a lot of value to his company. I can do this, she thought, when she hung up. I can do anything.
But this confidence twanged, like a rubber band, into doubt. Did she have a good sense of what she was capable of? Julia had known that she wouldn’t leave William, even when he’d disappointed and irritated her. She had married him for better and for worse. But she’d also known that if their marriage were ever to end, it would be her decision, not his. William had needed her; she hadn’t needed him. How was it possible that she was the one being left behind?
Julia rubbed her forehead and forced her thoughts elsewhere. As if answering an essay question for school, she tried to figure out who William would be without her pushing him. He’d probably like to be a high school basketball coach, she thought, and felt pleased with herself for being so mature and generous about the man who had lied to her and walked out on his family. Equally true was the fact that she never would have married a high school basketball coach. Men like that lived in small houses in Pilsen like the one she’d grown up in. They wore sweatshirts on workdays and barely made enough money to pay the rent.
Julia had wanted to be married to a college professor. She’d had secret aspirations for William: that he would be a college president in his later career or perhaps even run for public office. These aspirations had disappeared after she’d read his book, though. She realized then that there was something wrong deep inside him—after all, what kind of man would type the words I’m terrible on a page?—which meant he would never be successful. A college professor still seemed possible, though, and even inevitable. Julia had sat in on one of William’s classes during the spring, and at the end he’d said, nicely, that the sight of her grinning like a Cheshire cat at the back of the room had made it hard for him to concentrate. But William had been remarkable, breaking up the material with small jokes, fostering an interesting discussion on the ethics of war even though it was a lecture course. For the first time, he’d seemed to utilize his size off the basketball court. His height gave his presence significance. He was meant to stand out, so it made sense for him to be alone in the front of the room. Look at me, his body said, and the students complied.
Julia would have stayed married to the man at the front of the classroom. But the man who had just walked out, the one who had hidden ten thousand dollars and who knew what else, was a stranger. She hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted to know, who William was for a long time. When her husband came home after being out for the day, she never asked him where—or who—he’d been.
Julia needed to see Sylvie, because nothing in her life seemed real unless her sister shared it. But Sylvie showed up pale and panicked, as if the building were on fire. Julia was unsettled by her sister’s intensity from the moment she opened the door. It felt like her sister had arrived with a problem, instead of showing up to help Julia with hers.
Sylvie studied the evidence on the coffee table: the five sentences, the check. She said, “Before he left, did William explain why he’d missed his classes? What else did he say to you?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
“Nothing at all?”
“It’s in the note, Sylvie. We haven’t gotten along since the baby was born. Since I got pregnant, really.” The reasons she and William didn’t work were like a series of dead-end streets; Julia walked quickly down one and then doubled back to try another. “We’re like a clock that doesn’t keep time anymore,” she said. “He’s not ambitious. He never knew what to do, so he wanted me to give him instructions for everything, big and small. I’m a fast walker, and he’s slow. I thought I needed a husband, because that’s what we were told as little girls, right? Or maybe not told but shown. It didn’t occur to me that I might be better on my own. I was carrying him, Sylvie.”
Sylvie listened, bent slightly at the waist as if leaning forward helped her understand.
With her sister in front of her, Julia felt less clear than she had when she was alone. She could feel the effects of staying up all night; her eyes felt gravelly, and her hands shook slightly. She put her hands in her lap so Sylvie wouldn’t see. She said, “Alice and I will be fine. I don’t need a husband. William”—she hesitated for a split second—“was right to leave.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
Julia blinked at her, confused. “Do I think William’s okay?”
“Yes.” Sylvie looked at the pieces of paper and the hammer on the coffee table. “I think for him to do this—to miss classes, write that note—something must be really wrong.”
Julia rested her eyes on the note too so she and Sylvie were looking at the same thing. “I don’t think the end of a marriage is supposed to feel good for anyone,” she said. “Why are you worried about William?” She heard the tremor in her voice. “You should be worried about me.”
“I am, of course!” Sylvie said. “I feel terribly for you. But, Julia”—she hesitated—“it’s just that if there’s an emergency, we should do something.”
“My husband left me,” Julia said. “I don’t think that qualifies as an emergency.” She felt far away from Sylvie, even though the sisters shared the same couch. A strange thought occurred to Julia. Could it be that Sylvie somehow knew the man who had lied to Julia, handed her a check, and then left? Had her sister seen a version of William that was a stranger to his own wife? She shook her head; that didn’t make sense. Julia was tired and not thinking clearly.
“We’re the only ones who know what happened, though,” Sylvie said. “I think maybe we should call Kent, just so he knows too.”
Julia considered this. “William’s probably with Kent. If you want to, fine. His number is in the book by the phone.”
Sylvie nodded, her lips pressed together. “Do you want to make the call?”
“No,” Julia said. “This is your idea.”
Sylvie stood up and moved to the armchair. The small table beside the chair held the phone and address book. She stared at the phone while she pressed the numbers.
Julia could tell her sister felt uncomfortable, and she thought, Good. You should feel uncomfortable. You should be sitting here hugging me. Why are you worrying about William?
“Hi, Kent? This is Sylvie, William’s sister-in-law? We have a situation here, and I wanted to let you know.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “William has been gone since last night. He wrote a note to Julia.” Sylvie cleared her throat. “Saying he was leaving their marriage. He missed work too…. No, no one has heard from him. He didn’t say where he was going. You haven’t heard from him?” There was a pause. “Yes, of course, thanks.” And then Sylvie put the phone down.
“He’s going to drive down here,” she said to Julia. “He’s concerned.”
A hot anger flashed through Julia. “He’s not coming inside this apartment,” she said. “If you want to meet Kent outside and talk to him, fine. Forgive me if I’m not concerned about the man who just walked out on me, Sylvie. And you shouldn’t be, either. God!” She stood up. “I’m going to take a nap. I was up all night.”
Sylvie looked like she was going to speak and then changed her mind. She nodded.