The New Husband(69)

All this time together they had talked about what Glen did right and wrong in his marriage to Nina, but the conversation never went much deeper, and seldom focused on the children. The truth was Glen wanted to share. He was hungrier for conversation, for human contact, companionship—even from his captor and abuser—than he was for food. That’s the mind for you. Adapt, or die. But Glen knew also that sharing might give him what he was after, so he spoke the truth.

“I have a lot of regrets,” he said.

Simon looked intrigued. “Go on.”

“Nina and I, we had this dance we did,” Glen said, sounding a wistful note. “The more she focused on the kids, the more I retreated into my work, because I didn’t feel needed at home. I became a provider instead of a father.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I took my children’s childhood for granted.” A lump sprang to Glen’s throat. “I could have been more hands-on, more involved. Instead, I was the guy who never played with them enough. But I didn’t know how to play cars or dolls, and I was never comfortable with babies. And it wasn’t like Nina was asking me to do more. No, she was perfectly happy to take on all the responsibility. She made it seem like she was doing me a favor, but in reality, I think it might have been the other way around.”

Glen took a moment to put pressure on the cut to his lip and apply another layer of gauze on the cut to his ankle.

This was good. Simon was being attentive, listening and interested.

“Anyway, the kids grew, cats in the cradle, got older, more independent, all that, but my habits didn’t change. I was in the stands watching them play sports, sometimes helping with homework, but I was always distracted—on my phone, checking emails, putting out fires at the bank that I could have let burn. I focused on my work because that was the role I had carved out for myself. By that point, I didn’t know my kids all that well. It was Nina who knew what stuffed animals to bring on vacation, what food they’d like, what activities they’d want to do. Me? I existed in the background.”

Simon closed his eyes, as if picturing Glen’s life in vivid detail, zooming by with the speed of a bullet train, regrets piling up with the miles.

“Your honesty is really touching,” said Simon.

“When Maggie turned ten,” Glen continued, “I made a promise to myself to get more involved in her life, but I didn’t even know how to begin. I started reading to her at night, and that became our big father-daughter time. Just a book. The last one we were reading was A Wrinkle in Time.”

That one hurt. Glen needed a moment to regain his composure.

“I tried to get Connor into fishing because that’s what I liked to do, but he didn’t take to it at all, and I didn’t try to find something else for us to do together. I just threw up my hands as if it wasn’t meant to be. Instead of working harder to fix it or talking it out with Nina, I slipped back into my familiar role.”

“The worker bee.” Simon’s smile was almost a sneer.

“Work was my identity. It always had been.”

Until it was gone, Glen thought. And he could never get it back.

“So you of all people understand why Nina has to quit her job,” Simon said.

Work. What was it with Simon and Nina’s job? What was it triggering for him?

Glen decided now was the time to ask again.

“What you’re doing to Nina and Maggie,” he said, “playing mind games, making Maggie insecure and suspicious, that’s the wrong way to go. I know Nina. She’ll think it’s the relationship that’s causing all the problems, and she’ll leave you before she leaves her job. Maggie and Connor, that’s her identity.”

“She loves me too much,” Simon said dismissively.

“I’m telling you, you’re wrong,” Glen said. “You’ve believed what I told you all the other times. Why not now? Let me talk to Maggie by phone. I’ll fix it, even if it means Nina staying with a monster like you. I can’t let you hurt my family, Simon. I can’t let it happen.”

Glen knew he was pushing his luck calling Simon a monster, but the physical restraint he’d endured over the years had yielded to an imperative to strike back, even if only verbally. He expected some retaliation for the invective, but instead, the darkness in Simon’s eyes left in a rush as a dim light slowly rolled in.

“A monster…” he said, talking softly to himself, as if an idea were coming to him. “That’s it. That’s perfect. It’s exactly what I’ll do. Good, good thinking, Glen. Maggie might not be enough to get Nina to quit. What we may need is a real monster to push her over the edge. Okay, we’ll make that call together. Not yet—but soon.”

Panic gripped Glen. He had miscalculated. Simon didn’t care if Maggie embraced him or not. He didn’t believe Nina would ever leave him, not when he had his insurance policy chained inside a box to help smooth things over. But somehow, in the course of this conversation, Glen had given Simon a new idea to coerce Nina into doing his bidding. He was going to create a monster—though what that entailed exactly, Glen couldn’t say.

At least he had agreed to a phone call.

It was something.

It was hope.

Simon extended his hand. Glen took it and sealed the deal.