Chapter 13 - Nathan Was Allowed To Be Wrong Too
I went to Room Three alone the next Sunday.
No Margaret.
No Miles.
No Lily.
I wanted to see whether the room changed when nobody was explaining it.
It did.
The first time, every object had been evidence.
Now it looked like a bad workshop.
Dusty mattress.
Uneven shelf.
Cheap kettle.
Coffee stain near the window.
Nathan's handwriting on scraps of wood.
He had measured the yellow bookshelf wrong twice.
I sat on the floor.
For five years I had asked one question:
Was Nathan leaving me?
The room offered a better one.
What kind of marriage had we built if both of us were making escape plans through other people?
Nathan had an apartment application.
I had told Margaret I might take Lily somewhere for a while.
Nathan talked to Miles.
I talked to his mother.
He packed first.
I threatened first.
Neither of us asked the other a clear question before the final week.
Then time ended.
I could spend the rest of my life making his final intention a verdict on us.
Or stop.
A knock came from the doorway.
Miles.
I stared.
“How did you get in?”
“Margaret called.”
Of course.
I laughed.
He caught himself.
“She said you were here.”
“Still a problem.”
“Yes.”
He stayed outside the room.
“Do you want me to leave?”
I thought.
“No.”
He entered.
That was better.
He looked around.
“Haven't been up here in years.”
“You knew about the boxes.”
“Yes.”
“Did Nathan ever say he wanted a divorce?”
Miles took time.
“Once.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Months before he died.”
Of course.
I had asked for truth.
“What happened?”
“You two had some fight about Christmas.”
I almost laughed.
Margaret wanted Christmas morning.
My parents wanted Christmas Eve.
Nathan said he was tired of driving everywhere.
I said he was really tired of his mother.
He slept on the couch.
“Did he mean it?”
Miles shrugged.
“He said, ‘Maybe we'd both be happier divorced.’”
That hurt.
“Then?”
“The next day he called himself dramatic.”
Also Nathan.
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“You asked if Room Three was for another woman.”
Fair.
“Did he love me?”
Miles frowned.
“I don't answer dead people’s marriage questions.”
I looked at him.
He continued:
“He talked about you constantly. Complained about you constantly. Packed your orange mixer.”
I laughed.
“Take what you want.”
Good.
No sanctification.
“What was his biggest complaint?”
“You want pain.”
“I want proportion.”
Miles considered.
“He thought you preferred being reasonable to being honest.”
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He said you would agree with everybody until you got home, then explode at him.”
I looked down.
True often enough.
“And mine?”
“I don't know.”
“He made plans before asking.”
Miles smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“He treated every boundary from Margaret like proof she didn't trust him.”
“Yes.”
“He made me prove I was on his side.”
“Yes.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You married him.”
I laughed.
Then stopped.
“I miss him.”
Miles nodded.
No wisdom.
Good.
“What did Nathan want from Margaret?”
Miles looked toward the main house.
“To be allowed to disappoint her without losing the relationship.”
That one landed.
“And from me?”
“He never got it into one sentence.”
Even better.
Nobody had perfect last words.
Miles walked to the yellow shelf.
“You want this?”
“I don't know.”
“Lily?”
“I'll ask.”
He nodded.
“Room?”
“What about it?”
“Margaret's talking about converting it.”
I stared.
“To what?”
“Guest room.”
My anger rose automatically.
Then stopped.
The room was hers.
Not a shrine.
Not mine.
“Fine.”
Miles looked surprised.
“Really?”
“I took what belongs to me.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
Before leaving I ran my hand across the crooked yellow shelf.
Nathan had carved LILY into it before asking where Lily would live.
Love and control can use the same tools.
I did not need to decide which one the shelf was.
I took it anyway.
Then I called Lily.
“Do you want a bookshelf Dad made?”
“Is it good?”
I looked at the uneven side.
“No.”
She laughed.
May you like
“Then yes.”
Nathan would have loved that answer.
