She looked at the drawer. The remaining tapes. Four, five, six. Each one a woman who had loved him. Each one a woman who had tried to leave.
The screen went black.
One night, after three glasses of wine and a half-formed suspicion she couldn’t name, Lena guessed the code. 0912. Her birthday.
“Tell them what you learned,” Marcus said.
“Find one?” he asked.
“I tried to leave,” she whispered.
The woman laughed. “You first.”
“Tell me something true,” his voice said from off-screen. Young, hopeful.
Lena stared at her reflection in the dark TV screen. She heard the front door open. Marcus was home early. She heard him humming—that little tune he hummed while making pasta. The clink of his keys in the bowl. The soft pad of his footsteps.
She stood up. Smoothed her shirt. Walked to the bedroom door.
“Tell them what you did,” Marcus’s voice said, but it wasn’t sweet anymore. It was flat. Empty.