Page 133 of Our Last Resort
And then what?
The rest of our lives in prison. Apart from each other.
After all that. Just when things were starting to fall into place.
I’d worked so hard.
Maybe I was worried about nothing. Maybe the criminal justice system wouldn’t come for us.
Still, someone would know. Annie.
She and Gabriel were going to divorce. That was a guarantee. She would tell people about him. She would tell people about the fire. There would be questions, research. Annie’s incorrect assumption that Gabriel had acted alone wouldn’t hold up for long.
People would find out.
People we knew. And also strangers. Journalists. There might be articles. A book. A movie.
People would know that I’d stood, holding a container of gasoline, knowing Edwina might be upstairs. Accepting that possibility. Pouring the accelerant, regardless.
That part of me would be revealed to the world.
The part that chose destruction. Thatembracedit.
How do you take a secret out of someone’s head?
You can’t.
No, really. I’ve thought about it every which way.
There was a place she loved.
The waterfall in Paterson, New Jersey, where her parents had taken her as a kid. On the weekends, especially when Gabriel was away, Annie loved driving out to Paterson and running inthe nearby park. She’d run to the top of the waterfall—there was a bridge overlooking it—and gaze at the foaming water for a few minutes before running back to her car. She was the one who reminded me about it.
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side,” Annie said, on her way out of my apartment. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not taking his side,” I tried again. “It’s just, Annie—you’re so upset.”
She pinched her temples. “Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“You’re right. I’m upset. No one will believe me if I go to the police now. So, I’m going to go home. I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow, I’m going for a run. And then, I’m going to the police.”
Her tone grew more confident with each word. It was like she needed to hear herself. Like saying it out loud made her plan more real.
I opened my mouth. Before I could speak, she cut in: “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not asking for your permission. This is just a heads-up. I didn’t want you to find out in the press or whatever.”
She placed her hand on the doorknob.
“Think about it,” she said. “Think about what he did.” And then she said it again, that phrase: “It’s game over. For me. It should be for you, too.”
It was all a Gabriel problem, for her. In her mind, none of this had anything to do with me.
We went back and forth a few more times, but there was nothing I could do. Her mind was made up. Annie was going to tell the authorities what she knew. She was going to tell everyone.
And she was leaving me no time at all to think of a solution.
It was like with Gabriel’s migraines, when I stole from Émile to buy pills.
