Read Online Need to Know by Karen Cleveland - Free Book Online Page B

doesn’t lose control like this. I move toward him, wrap my arms around his waist, my cheek against his chest. I feel his arms encircle me, that embrace that’s always felt so safe, so much like home. “God, I’m sorry, Viv. What have I done? What’s this going to do to the kids?”
    I don’t know how to respond. Couldn’t get my mouth to work, even if I did.
    He pulls away and takes a deep breath. “I just wish none of this had happened.” A single tear slides down one cheek. “Whatever you found, I wish I could make it disappear.”
    “So do I,” I whisper. I watch the tear cut a path all the way to his chin. There’s something else on my mind, something I need to say, but I don’t know how to say it. Finally I force out the words. “You can go, you know.” I can’t help but think how strange, how sad, that it’s come to this. Ten years, four kids, a life together. And now a goodbye in the driveway?
    He looks at me, incredulous, then shakes his head sadly. “There’s nothing for me back there.”
    “I’d understand.”
    He puts his hands on my shoulders. “My life is here.” He looks so sincere when he says it.
    “Still, if you change your mind…at least call a sitter….”
    He drops his arms, looks like a wounded animal. I’m not even sure why I said it. It’s not like I really think he’d leave Ella alone.
    I don’t know what else to say to him. And even if I did, I don’t know if I could get the words out without breaking down. So I look away, get into the car, turn the key in the ignition. It starts the first time. What are the odds of that? I throw it into reverse and watch him watch me as I pull away, down the driveway, away from the life I know, the one we built together, and only then do I start to cry.
    —
    A STEADY STREAM OF CARS passes through the checkpoints, the ones manned by armed officers. The color-coded parking lots are starting to fill; thousands work here at headquarters. I walk from one of the far lots to the office in a daze, numb. My footsteps feel heavy. Others trudge past me on either side of the wide concrete walkway. I look at the manicured landscaping off to my right, the plants, the colors, because it’s better than thinking about what’s next. It’s better to pretend that none of this ever happened.
    Warm air hits me as I walk through the automatic doors into the lobby. I focus my attention on the giant American flag hanging from the rafters of the atrium. Today it seems ominous, taunting. I’m about to betray the man I love most in the world. Because I have no choice. Because of that flag, my country, and the fact that it’s not, in fact, his country, too.
    The security officers are at the turnstiles, watching, observing, as always. Ron, the one I see here most mornings, the one who never smiles, even when I smile at him. Molly, the one who always looks bored. People are queued up, waiting to scan badges and enter codes. I join the line, removing hat and gloves, smoothing out my hair. Why do I feel nervous? Like I’m doing something wrong. It makes no sense. None at all.
    I’m going to tell Peter first. I decided on the drive in. I need to practice getting the words out before I say them to security, because I still can’t picture myself saying them.
I found my husband’s picture
….
I don’t know how I’ll do it without breaking down.
    I walk down the long hall to my vault—our locked suite of cubicles and offices, set behind a heavy vault door, like they all are. Another badge, another code. I walk past Patricia, the secretary, and past the offices of the managers, through the rows of cubicles, back to the one I call my own. The one I tried so hard to make
like
home. The crayon drawings; pictures of my kids, of Matt. My life, hung with pushpins.
    I log on, another set of passwords, and start brewing a pot of coffee while I wait for system authentication. The computer’s ready before the coffee; I open Athena. More passwords. Then I pour coffee