Enjoy the party, everyone. I'll see myself out. I walked to the front door, grabbed my coat from the closet, and left my life behind. As I reached my car, I could hear the party resuming inside. Voices gradually returning to normal.
The crisis passed. The entertainment concluded. Driving away from the house we'd shared for 8 years. I couldn't help but laugh. Not from humor, but from the sheer absurdity of it all.
Elise had orchestrated her triumph so perfectly. The successful defense, the PhD, the divorce, the new beginning with Julian. She'd planned it like a military campaign. What she hadn't planned for was how thoroughly she'd underestimated me. I drove to Mark's house and spent the night on his couch, listening to him rant about Alisa's cruelty and Julian's obvious involvement.
The next morning, I started making calls. By the end of the week, I'd resigned from the university, sold my books, and accepted a position at a small college three states away. If Elise wanted to escape the intellectual goolog of our marriage, I was happy to accommodate her. Sometimes the best revenge is giving people exactly what they think they want. I left town without saying goodbye to anyone except Mark.
Let them wonder what happened to Nathan Mercer. Let them think I'd slunk away in defeat. They'd learned soon enough how wrong they were. Three years later, I was living a quiet life in Cedar Falls, Iowa, teaching composition at a small community college and writing freelance articles for academic journals. My apartment was modest but comfortable, a far cry from the suburban palace I'd shared with Elise, but it was mine.
No champagne fountains, no academic politics, no backstabbing colleagues pretending to be friends. I'd almost convinced myself I was happy. The knock on my door came on a Tuesday evening in October. I was grading papers and listening to jazz, the same kind that had played at Elisa's graduation party. I'd grown to appreciate the irony.
Through the peepphole, I saw a woman in an expensive coat, her blonde hair perfectly styled despite the wind outside. It took me a moment to recognize her. Elise had aged in 3 years, not badly, but visibly. There were lines around her eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide, and something brittle in her posture that hadn't been there before. I opened the door.
Hello, Nathan," she said, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "Ely. " I leaned against the door frame, blocking her entrance. "This is unexpected. We need to talk. " "I can't imagine what about. I believe we covered everything at your party. " Her composure cracked slightly.
"Don't be cute, Nathan. You know exactly why I'm here. " "Actually, I didn't. But I was curious enough to let her continue. " "May I come in? " she asked. I stepped aside and she entered my small apartment, looking around with barely disguised disdain. She'd always been a snob, but 3 years seemed to have refined it into an art form.
"Cuzzy," she said, settling onto my secondhand couch without being invited. "It serves my needs," I replied, remaining standing. "What do you want, Elise? " She opened her purse and pulled out a manila folder, apparently her preferred method of delivering bad news. My house burned down 2 weeks ago, she said. I'm sorry to hear that.
Insurance should cover it. The insurance company is investigating. They think it was arson. I raised an eyebrow. That's unfortunate.
What does this have to do with me? They're asking questions about people who might have grudges against me. Her blue eyes fixed on mine with laser intensity. Your name came up. I almost laughed.
My name came up? Elise? I haven't spoken to you in 3 years. I live in Iowa. I teach freshman composition and grade papers on Tuesday nights.
Exactly when would I have found time to burn down your house. You were always clever, Nathan. Cleverer than people gave you credit for. Clever enough to write your dissertation, you mean? Her face flushed.
That's not I never said you wrote it. No, you just said I did your citations like a research assistant or a very educated secretary. She stood abruptly, her composure finally cracking completely. You ruined my life. I ruined your life, Elise.
You divorced me at a party in front of our friends. I signed the papers and left town. How exactly did I ruin your life? My career is over. She screamed.
Nobody takes me seriously anymore. Julian won't return my calls. The department treats me like a joke. And you think I'm responsible for this? Because because you're vindictive and petty and you never could stand seeing me succeed.
I stared at her for a long moment, genuinely amazed. In 3 years, she'd managed to convince herself that her problems were my fault. It was almost impressive. Elise, I said quietly. I haven't contacted anyone from the university since I left.
I haven't spoken to Julian or Tanya or anyone else from your academic circle. Whatever is happening to your career, you did it to yourself. Liar. She pulled papers from the folder and threw them at me. The fire department found accelerant.
Someone deliberately burned down my house. I picked up one of the papers. It was a fire investigation report, heavily redacted, but clearly indicating suspected arson. This is serious. Elise, have you talked to the police?
Of course, I've talked to the police. They want to know about anyone who might want to hurt me. And your name is at the top of that list. Based on what evidence? Based on the fact that you had motive, I humiliated you and you're getting revenge.
I walked to my desk and pulled out my appointment calendar. Elise, two weeks ago, I was at a conference in Chicago. 300 witnesses, hotel security cameras, credit card receipts. I can prove I was nowhere near your house when it burned down. She stared at the calendar, her certainty wavering for the first time since she'd arrived.
Besides, I continued, if I wanted revenge on you, burning down your house would be remarkably stupid. It would make you a sufferer, and sufferers get sympathy. Then who? She began, then stopped. I don't know, but maybe you should think about who else might have reasons to dislike you.