I remember now. The letter I wrote last summer, when Jacob and I were here on the island. Aiden and I had already separated. Jacob asked me to divorce Aiden and marry him, and I believed it could be possible. I believed maybe I could marry Jacob and live happily ever after in this beautiful fantasy world.
He asked me what I would say, if I could write a letter to Aiden. To say good-bye. I wrote that our marriage was over, that I’d met someone. A man who wouldn’t waffle, who wouldn’t be unsure of our relationship.
But I didn’t send the letter. I burst into tears and dropped the paper on the floor. That was a mistake, I said. I reached down to grab the page, but Jacob put his arms around me. Don’t be afraid of change. I’m here with you.
He must’ve kept the letter, which I never intended to send. I threw it into the recycling bin, Jacob said. Would you like me to retrieve it for you? Have you changed your mind about sending it?
No, I said, relieved. Go ahead and recycle it.
But he didn’t. He kept it, and he gave it to Aiden. He intercepted Aiden’s emails to me. Not only that, he replied to them.
I meant what I said, he typed from my email address. Please get on with your life. We can’t undo what happened.
It was all a lie, just like my marriage to Jacob. Every moment, every kiss, every intimacy. A complete fabrication. But I slept with him. Everything we’ve done . . .
I run to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. I dry heave until I’m spent. My mind tumbles like a tiny boat caught in a giant wave. Had Jacob been planning this whole charade all along? But why?
I have to find a way to contact Aiden. But the minute I pull up the Web browser again, the Internet cuts out. It’s gone, just like that. The rain pummels the roof, the wind screaming in from the sea.
I run back to the house. The rooms look menacing now. Jacob created this world with the things I love—my seashells on the windowsill, this view of the ocean, my lecture notes, and my books. All a facsimile of the truth, like the abandoned shell of the Dungeness crab, perfect on the outside but hollow inside.
In the bedroom, I empty my purse again. Lingerie, Print ticket, Get you know what . . . I was preparing for my summer on the island with Jacob. A man who wasn’t my husband. The condom is still in the drawer—but this time, when I hold it in my hand, I see Jacob handing me the condom from a full box. We’ll use these until you’re ready, he said. As if he was certain I would end my marriage to Aiden. I put everything back into my purse, drop the condom in the garbage.
I take the wedding photograph off the shelf. The formality becomes apparent in the way Jacob and I dance together. I’m leaning back, away from him. My wedding dress fans out as he spins me around, and I’m smiling, but not at him. From this distance, I’m looking off slightly to my left, over his shoulder. I recognize Linny, smiling and clapping. Aiden is standing next to her. The groom.
I can’t breathe. I have to get out of here. Now. But there is no boat off the island before tomorrow. I stuff some clothes into my backpack. In the bathroom, I grab my toothbrush, a small bottle of lotion. That image of Jacob in the shower, the anticipation running through me—it was the nervous excitement a woman feels when she’s about to sleep with a man for the first time. Not for the fiftieth time or the hundredth time. I felt the anticipation of discovery. But now, my heart blackens with guilt. Of all things, I should have remembered Aiden. I should have been there for him. Every extra minute I spend here is a new blight on my soul.
Back in the bedroom, I pack a few of my most precious seashells, but not all of them. I can’t let Jacob know I’m gone for good. I need a head start. But how will I escape the island? I have to leave most of my belongings behind. I don’t even know what’s mine and what Jacob planted here to fool me. In the kitchen, I write a note, Out for a ride. I put on my rain gear, strap on my backpack in the garage, and take off on my bicycle. My heart is in my throat on the ride south on the only route—the main road. The whole way, I recite an internal mantra, You’re okay. You’re alive. I’m hoping Waverly’s telephone works, that she can call the authorities.
I’m a mile from the house when Jacob’s truck comes hurtling toward me, bouncing over potholes. My heart plummets. To the right, nothing but forest. It would be stupid to take off into those woods in the cold, with the rain shooting sideways in the wind. Where would I go? To the left, more forest. I won’t get far on foot.
Jacob pulls up alongside me and rolls down the driver’s-side window. “Where are you going?”
“Just into town for a few things.” Somehow, I manage to smile. I want to kill him. He motions me over to kiss him. I have to pretend, but I want to throw up.
“Get in, I’ll take you home.”
“I’m okay—I’ll go on my bike.”
“You won’t make it back in the storm.”