Chapter 7: Carol
Adrian called his sister from the bedroom doorway, the door behind him still open.
She picked up on the second ring.
"I was wondering when you'd call," Carol said.
"You knew about the group chat."
"I was added to it.
There's a difference." A pause.
"I answered twice, early on.
General things.
Then I read back through the older messages and I stopped responding."
"Camille says she asked you not to call me."
Silence.
"Carol."
"She called me four days ago," Carol said.
"She said she was going to delete the group and start over and that bringing it up would only hurt you unnecessarily." Another pause.
"I told her I'd give her a week."
"She used that week to send another message tonight.
Before the party.
Telling our guests to ignore Naomi."
The silence this time was longer.
"I didn't know that," Carol said.
"I know."
"Adrian, I'm sorry.
I should have called you the day I read those messages.
I let her talk me out of it and I shouldn't have."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because she cried," Carol said simply.
"She told me she was struggling.
That she felt invisible in her own marriage.
That she didn't know how to compete with a ghost." A pause.
"I felt sorry for her.
And I let that override what I knew was right."
Adrian leaned against the door frame.
"Did she say anything about wanting Naomi out of the house?"
A beat.
"She said she thought it might be better for everyone if Naomi had her own space.
Her own place.
She framed it as concern for Naomi's independence." Carol stopped.
"I didn't push back hard enough."
"No," Adrian said.
"You didn't."
"I know." Her voice was quieter.
"How's Naomi?"
"Downstairs.
Holding it together better than she should have to."
"Tell her I'm sorry.
Tell her from me directly.
I should have said something to her long before this."
"You can tell her yourself," Adrian said.
"Come over tomorrow."
"I'll be there."
He hung up.
Camille was still in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed now.
She'd heard every word.
"She was always going to tell you eventually," Camille said.
"Yes."
"I knew that.
I think I always knew it." She looked at her hands.
"I kept thinking if I could just get things stable enough — if Naomi would just settle somewhere, build her own life — it would fix itself."
"You wanted her to leave."
"I wanted a marriage," Camille said.
"I wanted to feel like I came first, somewhere.
In something."
"You do," Adrian said.
"In most things.
In most rooms.
She asks for very little." He moved closer.
"What she asked for tonight was to say hello to people she knows.
That's all."
Camille looked up.
"I hear you," she said.
"I hear you saying all of it.
And I know—" her voice broke slightly— "I know how it looks."
"It looks like what it is," Adrian said.
Not unkindly.
But without softening it either.
She nodded slowly.
"The group chat is gone.
Tonight.
Every message." She looked at him.
"And I'll talk to Naomi.
Properly.
Not to explain myself.
Just to—" She stopped.
"To apologize.
If she'll let me."
"That's her choice," Adrian said.
"I know."
He looked at her for a moment longer.
Then he turned toward the door.
"Adrian."
He stopped.
"I am sorry," Camille said.
"I mean that.
I handled this badly, from the beginning, and I knew it, and I kept going anyway." She paused.
"I don't know what that says about me."
"It says you were scared," Adrian said.
"And that you chose the wrong way to manage it." He looked back at her.
"Those are two different things.
May you like
And I need to figure out which one matters more."
He went back downstairs.
