Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Before Me
Maya agreed to meet me because Sarah asked her to.
Not because I called.
Sarah made that clear.
“She isn't your witness.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I almost snapped.
Stopped.
“Yes.”
Maya met us at a diner Sunday morning.
No folders.
No evidence.
Coffee and pancakes.
I appreciated that.
She looked at me and said:
“You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“You asked.”
“I didn't.”
“Still.”
Sarah almost smiled.
First time in three days.
I hated how grateful I felt for it.
Maya had also lost her job in the March reorganization.
She accepted a temporary contract within three weeks.
Sarah had not.
I asked:
“Why?”
Maya looked at Sarah.
“Do you want me answering?”
Sarah nodded.
“Because Sarah kept applying at her old level.”
“That makes sense.”
“For about two months.”
Sarah looked down.
Maya continued.
“Then I told her to apply down.”
“I did.”
“Eventually.”
“Did she refuse work because of pride?”
Maya frowned.
“That's a cheap way to ask.”
I felt my face heat.
Sarah said:
“He gets to ask ugly questions right now.”
Maya looked at her.
“No, he gets honest answers. That's different.”
I liked Maya less already.
Which probably meant she was useful.
She turned to me.
“Sarah was scared that taking the first bad offer would lock her into a salary she couldn't climb out of.”
“Meanwhile she was borrowing money at horrible rates.”
“Yes.”
“I’m aware that looks insane.”
“It does.”
“From August?”
“Yes.”
“What about April, May, June?”
“She interviewed constantly.”
Sarah interrupted.
“Not constantly.”
Maya looked at her.
“You did more than you're giving yourself credit for.”
“I also spent full days sitting in a library pretending to be employed.”
“Both can be true.”
Maya turned back to me.
“Your wife was not shopping all day or going to spas.”
“I didn't say she was.”
“You looked like you were trying to determine whether she had a secret second life.”
I had been.
Sarah stirred her coffee.
Maya continued.
“She did delivery-app work for three weeks.”
I looked at Sarah.
“You did what?”
“It paid badly.”
“You drove deliveries?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“June.”
“With our car?”
“Yes, Daniel. The car.”
I stared.
“Why didn't I see the app?”
“I deleted it.”
“Of course.”
Maya continued.
“She did two bookkeeping projects for a former client.”
Sarah looked annoyed.
“Maya.”
“What? He thinks you sat around manufacturing debt.”
“I didn't say that.”
Maya gave me a look.
Fine.
I had thought something close.
Then she said:
“Ask Sarah why she stopped delivery work.”
I looked at my wife.
Sarah didn't answer.
“Why?”
“My car got hit.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Parking lot. Minor.”
“When?”
“June twenty-third.”
I tried to remember.
There had been a scrape on the rear bumper.
Sarah told me somebody hit it at the grocery store.
“You lied about that too.”
“Yes.”
“How much damage?”
“Mostly cosmetic.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No.”
“Other driver?”
“No.”
Maya said:
“She stopped after that because if you saw an insurance claim tied to delivery work, the whole thing came out.”
I stared at Sarah.
Every secret required another secret.
That was what I was beginning to understand.
The first lie hadn't protected anything.
It had simply created maintenance.
Maya asked me something.
“When was the last time you opened your joint checking account before this week?”
I looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
Sarah said:
“Maya.”
“No.”
Maya leaned forward.
“He should answer.”
I wanted to tell her our marriage was none of her business.
Then remembered I'd come here asking about it.
“Months.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Three?”
“More.”
“Six?”
I didn't answer.
Sarah looked embarrassed for me.
That made it worse.
Maya sat back.
“So Sarah lied to you.”
“Yes.”
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“She handled all the money because?”
“She always did.”
“Why?”
I looked at Sarah.
She said:
“Because early in our marriage, Daniel hated dealing with bills.”
I felt defensive.
“I didn't hate it.”
“You got anxious.”
“My father lost our house when I was seventeen.”
Maya's expression softened slightly.
I hated that too.
I continued.
“Money fights were constant in my family.”
“So Sarah took over.”
“Yes.”
At first, relief.
Sarah handled autopay.
Taxes.
Insurance renewals.
I transferred money into joint checking and lived like being responsible meant earning rather than knowing.
Maya said:
“Do you know what Sarah used to call it?”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Maya.”
“What?”
I looked between them.
“What?”
Maya said:
“She called herself the family CFO.”
That sounded like Sarah.
I almost smiled.
Then Maya added:
“She also said if she ever admitted she couldn't make the numbers work, you'd panic.”
I looked at my wife.
“Did you think that?”
Sarah nodded.
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
She looked at me.
“I think I'm watching you try not to.”
Fair.
Maya finished her coffee.
Before leaving, she said:
“One more thing.”
I expected another secret.
Instead she looked at Sarah.
“Tell him about Thursday.”
Sarah's face changed.
“What Thursday?”
Maya stood.
“The interview.”
I stared at Sarah.
“You have another interview?”
She looked furious with her friend.
Maya put cash on the table.
“See? This is why people hate me.”
Then she left.
I looked at Sarah.
“Thursday?”
She sighed.
“Local company.”
“For what?”
“Director role.”
“Salary?”
“Less than before.”
“How much less?”
“Enough.”
I heard the defensiveness.
Then something occurred to me.
“Were you going to tell me if you got it?”
Sarah looked at the table.
“I don't know.”
The answer hurt.
May you like
Not because she was still hiding.
Because three days after everything came apart, secrecy still felt safer to her than hope.
