Chapter 4 - the password)
Mason said the password change was security.
"Someone tried logging in."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did."
"After I couldn't get in."
He was standing near the coffee machine in his work clothes.
Linda sat at the table.
I hated that she was there.
I hated that every conversation had an audience.
"Give me the new password."
Mason took a sip.
"I'll reset it when I get home."
"Why not now?"
"I'm late."
"Mason."
He exhaled.
"Anna, there is nine hundred dollars in your checking account."
"My checking account?"
"Your personal one."
"I know what account you mean."
"Then why are you acting trapped?"
The word stopped me.
"I didn't say trapped."
"No, but you're implying it."
Linda looked down at her coffee.
Mason continued.
"We have a mortgage, bills, hospital expenses. I'm handling things."
"We always handled them together."
"And now you aren't working."
"I'm on maternity leave."
"Exactly."
There are moments that look small from the outside but create a crack through everything underneath.
That was one.
Not because I needed the password immediately.
Because Mason had quietly decided that earning a paycheck gave him more ownership over money we had built together.
I looked at Linda.
She said nothing.
Of course she did not.
Her silence was agreement.
That afternoon, I opened a new bank account online.
I transferred two hundred dollars from my personal checking.
Then another two hundred.
My hands shook even though I had done nothing wrong.
I called Rachel.
"Can you keep something private?"
"Yes."
"Even from Mom?"
"If that's what you want."
I told her about the account.
There was a pause.
"Good."
"I feel ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Because I feel like I'm preparing for something."
"You are."
"For what?"
"Options."
The word calmed me.
Not leaving.
Not divorce.
Options.
That night Mason gave me the new password.
He even apologized.
"I shouldn't have changed it without telling you."
"Okay."
"I was stressed."
"I know."
He kissed my forehead.
Two hours later, he accused me of hiding money because he received an alert about the transfers.
"I transferred money from my own checking."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to."
"We're married."
"Exactly."
He stared at me.
"Who told you to do that?"
I laughed.
"Nobody."
"Rachel?"
"Why does everything come back to Rachel?"
"Because she hates me."
"She doesn't hate you."
"She wants you to."
I picked up Eli from the bassinet.
Mason stepped closer.
"I'm asking a simple question."
"And I answered."
"Don't walk away from me."
Eli stirred.
I turned.
"Mason, lower your voice."
His eyes changed.
It happened so fast I barely understood.
He put his hand against the wall beside my head.
Not touching me.
Blocking me.
"You don't get to order me around in my house."
My whole body went still.
Eli began to fuss.
Mason looked down at him.
Then at me.
The anger disappeared.
He stepped back.
"Jesus."
I said nothing.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't."
That was a lie.
He rubbed his face.
"I'm sorry."
Linda appeared on the stairs.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," Mason said.
I walked toward the nursery.
Linda called after me.
"Anna?"
I stopped.
"Your generation makes everything so dramatic."
I turned.
Mason looked uncomfortable.
Linda continued.
"My husband and I had real fights. People used to work things out."
"Did he block you against walls?"
Her face hardened.
"Mason did not touch you."
Again.
The technical defense.
He didn't touch you.
She would keep lowering the standard until only a hospital bed counted as harm.
I went into the nursery and locked the door.
It was the first time.
Mason knocked ten minutes later.
"Can we talk?"
"No."
"Anna."
"Tomorrow."
He waited.
Then the handle moved.
My heart jumped.
He stopped.
I heard him breathe on the other side.
Finally he said, "I don't like locked doors between us."
I looked at Eli asleep in my arms.
Neither did I.
But I was beginning to understand why they existed.
The next morning I packed a small emergency bag.
Two outfits for Eli.
Diapers.
My documents.
A charger.
Cash.
Medication.
A change of clothes.
I put the bag in the trunk beneath the spare tire cover.
I felt disloyal.
Then I remembered Mason's hand against the wall.
I closed the trunk.
That evening, Linda announced she would stay another week.
I said no.
For once, clearly.
"No. I need space."
Linda stared at me.
Mason put down his fork.
"She's helping."
"I don't want help that I didn't ask for."
His face tightened.
"Where is this coming from?"
"Me."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Not Rachel?"
"No."
Linda stood.
"If I'm such a problem, I'll leave tonight."
She expected me to stop her.
I almost did.
Years of politeness rose automatically in my throat.
Then Eli cried from the living room.
Mason's chair scraped backward.
His face twisted with immediate irritation.
Linda saw it.
So did I.
She touched his shoulder.
"It's okay, honey."
Not the baby.
Mason.
She comforted her thirty four year old son because his newborn was crying.
Something inside me went very quiet.
Linda did not leave that night.
May you like
Mason asked her to stay.
And two days later, after Eli cried through a third consecutive night, Mason followed me into the bathroom at three seventeen in the morning.
