I nod.
“He visits Claire and then he . . .” She takes another huge swallow. “He went through so much. First Claire, and then Natalie. I mean . . . God. He must have been hurting so bad.”
“I know.”
“Well . . . thank you for coming.”
“No, I mean that’s why I came here. Because I think I know how he felt.”
She glances around the room. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I lost my daughter too,” I tell her. “My husband left me. I’ve thought about doing what your brother and sister-in-law did.” Her eyes are dulled but kind. She puts a hand on my shoulder. This is easier than I thought it would be, but then again, all I’m doing is telling the truth. “I nearly did do it once.”
She sips her wine, her eyes narrowing. “I’m so sorry.”
“It happens to some of us. You know how certain people with missing limbs say that it hurts even more after the amputation? That’s what it’s like for some of us who lose children. There’s nothing you can do to make that pain go away and you know that. It’ll just get worse and worse until you can’t feel anything at all.” I take a sip of wine. It’s very sweet, but at least it calms me a little. “There’s nothing you could have done for them. I wanted you to know that. That’s why I came.”
Tears brighten her eyes. She grasps one of my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry for your loss, but you don’t know how much that means,” she says. “They were both acting so strange, and I keep thinking about missed warning signs and . . . God.”
“They were acting strange?”
She gulps down the rest of her wine, sets the cup on the counter, then grasps it for balance as a man walks in. He’s about a foot taller than Olivia, big and broad-shouldered with one of those faces that look as though they’re always smiling. He pulls her into a hug, kisses her forehead. “You okay?”
She looks at me. “This is my husband, Jake,” she says.
“Hey.”
“I’m Camille.”
He scrunches up his face and looks at me for too long. I’m worried he’s about to recognize me from the viral video. “Have we met?”
Olivia says, “She was the witness.”
His eyes widen.
“Not the driver.” She says it as though she can read his mind.
Jake clears his throat. “Did it happen . . . the way they said it did?”
He says it to Olivia, not me, and so thankfully I don’t have to answer.
She gives him a terse nod and big eyes—more couples’ shorthand for, I’m fine. Let me finish this conversation. I’ll fill you in later.
Jake squeezes his wife’s shoulder. “Take good care of her,” he says to me. Which makes no sense, but it doesn’t matter. He loves her very much.
Once he’s safely out of the room, I ask Olivia what she means by acting strange, and she says, “I heard them arguing.”
“They didn’t ever argue?”
“No, I mean . . . Really shouting at each other. Which wasn’t like them at all. They came here for dinner a few weeks ago, and we could hear them outside the door.”
“Could you tell what it was about?”
“I heard Natalie say, ‘I never should have told you.’ And then Ed said, ‘Why the fuck would you expect me to understand?’” She closes her eyes. “Ed never swears.” She pours herself more wine and takes a swallow. “Swore. Ed never swore. Anyway . . . there was something going on with them. And I felt like . . . I don’t know. If I had only thought to ask Ed what was going on. Or if I’d called him about it later and asked if he wanted to talk . . .”