On instinct, I went into the bathroom. My razor was in my toiletry kit. I retrieved it and cracked the plastic against the marble vanity. The four blades that dropped out were tiny fragments; I held them in the palm of one hand. Each one reflected a small part of my face: an eye, a lip. I appeared as fractured as I felt inside. I’d grown up managing mental pain by balancing it with physical torment, but in that moment, I knew it was futile. I was a bundle of scar tissue, but the agony inside me never abated.

The memory of the last time I’d seen Caroline came into focus. Do you want to come up now, Ben? I can’t wait. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?

She was livid that I’d overheard her on the phone. What are you doing here?

I live here, in case you’ve forgotten, I said.

I don’t want to be married to you anymore, Caroline had said. Why is that so hard to understand, Theo? Get out of my house.

I’d gone to my room, but I’d forgotten the reason I’d come home. Instead, I pulled the framed wedding photo of Caroline and me off the wall and stormed back down the hallway, smashing it against the doorframe. Shattered glass and wood were everywhere.

I don’t give a damn what you do, I told her. You can keep the house, but I will never let you have Teddy.

Caroline had stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. I went down the stairs and out of the house. That was the last time I saw my wife. The memory of it made me sick.

I dropped the razors in the trash. One day, I would have to teach my son how to deal with pain. I couldn’t do it if I hadn’t learned to manage it myself.

After sitting for a while, allowing regrets to wash over me, I picked up my phone and looked up a number I rarely called. Of course Juliet didn’t answer. I spoke to her voice mail.

“This is Theo,” I said. “I’m in Berlin. I came here because . . . I’m trying to understand pieces of my memory that don’t make sense. I have a question for you. I know you remember the night Mirelle died. On the plane, you said I’d ruined your trip to Paris. The thing is, you shouldn’t have been in Paris. You had school.” I took a breath. “Here’s my question: Did you decide to come over to Europe yourself, or did Father surprise you with the trip? Because I’ve discovered he set me up that night. I think he set you up as well.”

PART THREE

PART THREE