IT WAS SNOWING when I emerged from Marketplace Tower that night, and a couple inches already blanketed the pavement. Working all day in a windowless room made me oblivious to the weather until the cold reality struck. I flipped up the hood on my parka, but there was no way to protect my feet, and my pumps were sodden by the time I reached the station. My train was delayed, and I stood shivering on the platform for twenty minutes until it arrived. The heat wasn’t working in my car, and my teeth were chattering by the time I reached my stop. I promised myself a hot bath the minute I got home, and I prayed the boiler wouldn’t be on the fritz again.

I got off the train and ran the rest of the way home and down the stairs to our apartment. I unlocked the door and hit the light switch. And stopped dead on the threshold.

The apartment had been ransacked. Drawers were upended and dishes flung into shards. The mattress was pulled off the bed and ripped open. Stuffing erupted from the gash. Some of the Sheetrock had even been pried from the wall, exposing the studs and wiring and tufts of pink insulation.

We’ve been robbed! was my first panicked thought. But an instant later I knew it wasn’t true. No one could be desperate enough to rob the poorest people in New York.

No, this was David’s work. He’d been searching for his stash—or my cash. He’d done the same thing many times before. But this time was different. This time there was fury behind it. The only thing left untouched was the beanbag chair. He must have felt confident that I wouldn’t be so bold as to hide anything in the very chair he was sleeping in. Or maybe he simply wanted to be sure he’d have a place to sleep when—if—he came back.

When he came back. I wondered if he’d still be in the rage that had caused all this destruction. Until now, even on our worst day, I’d never felt unsafe with him. I wondered if we’d finally crossed that line. I wondered if I should lock the door or go stay somewhere else.

But I had nowhere else to stay. And neither did he.

I picked up the broken crockery, slid the drawers back into the dresser and cabinets, hauled the mattress onto the bed, and pushed the stuffing back inside as best I could.

When I went to bed, I left the door unlocked.

Chapter 17

A sound mind in a sound body. Mrs. Casco’s advice wasn’t always original, but it was always valuable. Case in point. The better I got at books and exams in middle school, the more I tended to shut myself up in the library, and the less I tended to move. It was Mrs. Casco who made me get outside and run and play and try out for sports and work as hard at exercise as I worked at studying. She helped me out with uniforms and fees and rides to and from practice, and she sat in the bleachers and cheered me on through the seasons, from hockey to swimming to lacrosse, from JV to varsity to team captain and MVP. Thanks to the campus gyms at Brown and Columbia, I was able to keep it up through college and law school, and after that I could afford to join the trendiest gym in Manhattan.