— God.
— I believed it because…
— Because of Dad.
— Yes.
— You once said you didn't know if you could go through a hospital experience again.
David remembered.
After his father's death.
— I said it scared me.
— Not that I would abandon my wife.
Claire:
— I know that now.
Silence.
David:
— What did she tell you about me?
Claire:
— That you asked about me but didn't want to talk directly.
— That you were worried about the treatment.
— That maybe it was better if I looked for an apartment as your return got closer.
— Did you look?
— Yes.
That hurt.
— Where?
— A small apartment near the hospital.
— I was going to move next week.
Forty-eight days before.
If he had returned according to schedule, Claire would have disappeared from the house.
David would have found an empty room.
Margaret would probably have said: Claire decided to leave.
Claire would have thought: David asked her to leave.
The marriage could have ended without a single direct conversation.
— Why were you washing dishes? — he asked.
Claire almost laughed.
— Because I used a cup.
— I thought…
He felt stupid.
A tragedy setup.
A sick woman working.
But no.
— Margaret didn't force me to work.
— I want to be clear about that.
— She took care of me.
— A lot.
David:
— I know.
— That makes it worse.
— Yes.
Claire:
— I don't want you turning everything she did into a complete lie.
— She accompanied me.
— She was scared with me.
— Once, she slept in a chair at the hospital.
— And then she came home and wrote to you as if she were you.
— Yes.
Both truths.
David stood up.
— I have to talk to her.
Claire:
— Not today.
— Claire.
— No.
— You just got back.
— I just discovered that the last seven months didn't exist the way I thought they did.
— I don't want an explosion.
David took a breath.
— Okay.
— Tomorrow.
— With someone else.
— A lawyer.
— Yes.
Claire:
— And David.
— What?
— Don't rescue me by making decisions for me.