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Kali stayed motionless as the door quietly opened. She wasn’t sure if she’d slept ... but sensed she must have. Lincoln wouldn’t enter so quietly if it was still early. She breathed softly, hoping he’d step toward her, pull up the blanket or whisper her name, checking to see if she was awake.
His footsteps crossed past her and to his room. Several minutes later his door opened again and steps padded down the hall to the bathroom. When his door opened once more, Kali stared into the semi-darkness.
After several minutes she rose, her heart pounding in her chest, and tiptoed to his room. She pushed open the door slowly then stood in the shadows, listening for movement. “Lincoln?”
“I’m here.”
Kali walked to the edge of his bed and perched. Not once had she done that—sat on his bed, been in his room with the lights off, the only other person in the apartment asleep.
“I’m so sorry.”
Silence.
Kali pursed her lips and closed her eyes in the darkness. “How are you?”
Lincoln shifted to his side—away from her. “I don’t know.”
“I get that. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Lies always are.” His voice was soft, unaccusing, but still the words cut.
Kali nodded in the darkness. “Can you understand how at first, when you were a stranger, when I felt so embarrassed to even be here, it would have been hard to explain a husband who left, who I had no communication with?” She stopped, waiting for a reply. When it was clear none was coming, Kali continued. “For all I knew he’d never come back.”
Lincoln took several breaths in the silence. “Was the possibility of us a lie too?”
“No,” Kali breathed. “No.”
“What if I’d wanted to marry you? What then?”
She ran her hand along the sheet. “If I said yes I would have applied for a divorce.”
“Would you have told me, or done it in secret?”
“I—”
“And what about Marvin? I thought staying married was to help take care of him.”
“I don’t know.” Kali shifted toward Lincoln. “Can I lie down?”
Lincoln’s voice caught. “I don’t know.”
Kali closed her eyes and let her chest expand. “Well, I’m going to.” She eased onto the bed and under the covers, facing him. Her hand found his and grasped it. “Believe me, please. I want this.”
“What’s this, Kali?”
“You. Me. Wherever life takes us.”
Lincoln released a soft sigh. “Maybe it should take us apart.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”
“Kali, why are you here?”
“To talk to you.”
“No. Here. Living with me. Was I just the easier option, easier to bruise your pride taking my charity than taking his ... though I hardly think you could call it charity. Theo’s his son. You’re his wife. It’s his responsibility to provide for you.”
Kali propped herself up. “What are you talking about?”
“The money, Kali. You don’t need to be here. You didn’t need my help.”
“I ...” Her voice faltered.
“All your talk about losing your job, applying for EI and disability. You didn’t need any of it, not really. And before that, the rats and mold. You didn’t need to be living in that apartment.” Lincoln’s voice shifted. “What kind of mother would do that? Expose her son to such danger over pride, or stubbornness?”
Kali turned on the bedside lamp and sat up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Lincoln propped himself up. “The money.”
“What money?”
“The eighty thousand dollars.”
Kali stared at him blankly.
“In your joint account.”
“Our? What?” Queasiness slid through her. “I don’t know anything about any money.”
Confusion and uncertainty settled over Lincoln’s expression. “The money Derek’s been putting in your joint account since he left. He said there’s over eighty thousand now.”
“The ...” Kali’s hands shook. She remembered it now: the day before the accident at Peggy’s Cove they’d gone to the bank and set up that account. It was ridiculous, Derek had said, that they hadn’t done it yet. They were husband and wife, not roommates. They should share an account. They’d set it up with his bank. The plan was to transfer her payroll to the account, their bill payments too. But then they’d gone to Peggy’s Cove and none of that happened.
Kali crossed the room, yanked open the door, and settled on the couch in front of her laptop.
She reached for her satchel, grabbed her wallet, and pulled out card after card. “It’s got to be here,” she muffled under her breath. At last she held it in her hands, the bank card she’d only used once, to set up her account. It had sat, untouched, in her overstuffed wallet ever since.
Kali typed in the numbers then tried passwords. Invalid. Invalid.
“Damn.” She lifted her head and stared at the wall ahead of her, sensing Lincoln’s presence yet unable to see him in her non-existent peripheral vision. And then it hit her, the memory of Derek elbowing her in the side, saying if his and Jason’s new auto shop went belly up, the account would mean he’d have access to all she had. You’ll be my sugarmommy, he’d laughed. Sugarmommy. She typed it in and the screen opened. Kali sat back as the breath streamed out of her. Eighty four thousand, three hundred and sixty-five dollars and fourteen cents.
She stared at the figure then turned to Lincoln. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Lincoln sat and listened as she explained. She squeezed her eyes shut as all the years of struggle and stress and worry passed over her. So much of it. All of it, almost, didn’t need to be. The rats, the nights she’d lain awake, listening for their scurrying, fearing they’d bite Theo in his sleep.
She shook her head and let out a sob. “I didn’t know.”
Lincoln wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him. “All those shitty apartments. All those awful, inconsistent shifts because I couldn’t afford a quality daycare.” She let out a harsh laugh. “And poor Mrs. Martin. The amount she charges me, I’m practically robbing her.”
Kali pulled away from Lincoln. “How did you know about this?”
“I ran into Derek this evening.”
Kali shook her head again.
“He thought you didn’t take it because you didn’t need it. He thought you were fine. When he found out from Marvin that you weren’t, he thought you were too proud.”
“How could he?” Kali rubbed a hand across the side of her face. “And all this time I thought he ... the things I thought.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll pay you back right away. All of it.”
Lincoln put up a hand. “That’s not what this is about.”
“I know.” She laughed. “But I will. Too proud to take his money? No. Like you said, Theo’s his son. His responsibility. We’re due his support. I would never be too proud to do something to help my son. I moved in with you.”
Lincoln’s face tensed.
Kali put her hand on his leg. “Who you were ... or at least who I thought you were, how you presented yourself; you have to admit you can see how hard that would have been for me. How scary. With a three-year-old.”
Lincoln gave a tight nod.
Kali turned her head to the screen again. “It’s so much. How could he have saved so much?”
“It’s the army, I guess. Maybe he lived on base. Maybe a lot of his food was provided.”
“I suppose.” Kali kept her gaze on the screen as she sensed Lincoln shifting away from her. Kali let out a laugh and turned back to the computer screen. “This changes everything.”
“Everything?”
“Well,” another laugh, “a lot. It changes a lot. I no longer have to rely on you or EI or disability cheques. If I’m not able to get a job for a while, it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Kali turned at the sound of Lincoln’s voice.
“Does it change things with you and me, you and Derek?”