“That seems like an unkind way to describe yourself.”

“It’s true.”

“Unkind, still.”

“You wanted someone that isn’t too enmeshed into the group. Someone wary that’s seen the Asylum and knows the sort of thing that comes out of there. Someone that might see how they operate within the dynamic now that most have let their guards down. You think something’s up, and you didn’t tell me what it is because you didn’t want me going in with too many preconceived ideas. Because… you wanted to see if I drew the same conclusions. Something bad’s in play with this group.”

She nodded to herself.

“Am I wrong?” I asked.

“You’re not wrong,” she said.

Shade Interlude 4c

She stared up at the ceiling, tears in her eyes.

“It’s not like I didn’t give you warnings,” he said.

“I can’t change your mind?” she asked. It sounded like pleading, begging.

She looked at him. His head was shaved, his chin was marked with stubble, and he looked weary. The front door was ajar, the world outside dark. He had his jacket and shoes on, and he stood in the hallway, while she stood in the living room. The water hadn’t even dried from when he’d walked in from outdoors and it was clear in his body language he was about to go.

He took a long time to decide what to say.

“I’d say you could tell me things were going to be different—”

“They will.”

“—But you’ve told me it before,” he said. “I don’t believe your words anymore.”

“This isn’t just about me,” she said, raising her voice.

“Seventy-five percent me, twenty-five percent you, then,” he said.

“Don’t fucking reduce it to numbers,” she said, angry now.

“We’ve talked about this,” he said. His voice was calm, in stark contrast to hers. “I’ve tried to be fair. I outlined what needed to change. That you needed to take it easier and be more reliable. I don’t even know where you are some nights, and it’s not because of work.”

“It’s part of the job!” she said. Her voice echoed down the hallway, and the echo came back different. “It’s the work culture! How many times do I have to say it!?”

“I’ve outlined what needed to change. The therapist took my side. She thought it was fair. We agreed on rules, the therapist signed off on them, and you broke them,” he said. His voice was more weary than his expression was. “How many times have I had to get Ever out of bed late at night, get her things, and bring her to the hospital like that because you’ve gotten hurt? You’re a mom.”