The reason I’ve come to think so differently about all this is because I’ve met Lex. By now, I know him well enough to see that he would have been a much more suitable partner for me than Werner. I feel like I’m a better person when I’m around Lex.

But, Mother, what good does that do me? What good does that do the children? Things turned out differently. Werner has his faults, but he’s there for the kids, and he never lets us down.

I don’t want to be one of those parents who turns her back on her family when things get tough and flounces off to seek her own happiness. Because at the end of the day, Mother, I’d just be doing exactly what Father did all those years ago. I’d be putting myself first—ahead of Sara, Thom, and Emma. This family gives the kids stability, certainty, strength. It’s their foundation.

And yet, after Friday, I’m not so sure about that anymore. I thought I knew Werner—but do I really? He bought a gun without telling me. What possessed him? And how do you even get hold of a gun? I wouldn’t know where to start.

But Werner knew. And then he kept that awful thing in our bedroom. Mother, it’s true that he’d been afraid of a robbery for a long time. But a lot of people worry about that—do they all go out and buy guns? Is there something I don’t know? Does it have anything to do with all that time he spends at work? Do Werner’s actions really add up?

1

1

“Good afternoon. I’m Helen. What’s your name?”

“Piet van Drunen,” replied the patient—a man with thick gray hair and a piercing glare.

“And your date of birth?”

“March twenty-seventh, 1950.”

Helen typed the first letters of his surname on the touchscreen. His data promptly appeared on the display, below-the-knee amputation.

“I’ll just put in a drip for you,” she said, and disinfected a spot on his forearm. She doubted that the man was still working full-time, given his age, but she asked him nonetheless.

“I’m a dairy farmer.”

“That’s hard, physical work,” she said.

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Do you have anyone to help you?”

The man explained that his son was going to take over the business, but that he was still very active himself. His expression hovered somewhere between anger and suspicion.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m worried they’re going to cut off my good leg. You hear about things like that happening from time to time.”

She smiled. “Not in this hospital.”

“People make mistakes, though, don’t they? Left for the audience is right for the actors, if you know what I mean?”

She knew what he meant all too well.