The Husband Hour(92)

Chapter Forty-Nine



Matt woke up facedown on his computer keyboard. He lifted his head, blinking at the screen, the same image of Ethan Adelman he’d been scrutinizing before finally passing out after editing for twelve hours straight.

He checked his phone, trying to orient himself to the day and time. Twenty-four hours since Lauren had dropped the bombshell, and it hit him fresh.

He turned back to his computer, clicked through the reel to just about eighty minutes into the film. It was footage he’d shown in the opening, Rory scoring a hat-trick goal in high school, then pulling his left arm sharply in, bent at the elbow, his fist tight: score. The first time the footage occurred in the film, it was accompanied by a voice-over from a former high-school teammate: “Rory was selfless on the ice. He was ruthless against the opponent but generous to his teammates. He was the definition of team player.” Now, the second time the footage ran, it was with Stephanie’s voice-over. The audience had already seen Stephanie’s interview, already knew her in the context of Lauren’s sister. She was blond, she was beautiful. Her words, over the action of Rory’s goal: “Rory wasn’t a hero.” Next, a clip of Ethan running to his mother, kicking the ball into the ocean, then making the arm gesture that exactly mirrored Rory’s just a few frames earlier.

Score.

It was a game-changing version of the story he had been trying to tell for the past four years, a piece of the puzzle he’d never imagined. The man who was arguably the most famous casualty of the war in Iraq had left behind a son.

He considered a new name for the film: American Son.

Pushing away thoughts of Lauren, he told himself it was the nature of the work. This is real, this is true, and the truth has a way of coming to the surface. He was just the vehicle.

Of course, Lauren wouldn’t see it like that. Oh, what a massive, unprofessional mistake, sleeping with an interviewee. But in his defense, he’d thought the film was all but finished and that she was comfortable with how Rory would be represented—valiant but flawed, betrayed by the system. But the betrayed became the betrayer.

He logged off the computer, took a quick shower, and packed up the last of his equipment. Whenever he stayed someplace for an extended period, he felt a pang at leaving, almost like he needed to say good-bye to the room. He felt it especially in that moment, knowing that after the movie came out, he would not exactly be welcomed back.

Or maybe, if he was lucky, by the time the movie came out, Lauren would have come to terms with everything. The worst part was that she thought he’d been playing games with her—using her. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Someone knocked on the door.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t sneak off without saying good-bye!” Henny said, surprising him with a hug.

“Oh, hey there, Henny. Yeah, well, it’s early. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I brought you something. A little parting gift.”

She handed him a sea-blue sign that read I LEFT MY ? AT THE SHORE, with the ? made out of seashells.

“I thought you might like a reminder of the beach when you’re back in New York,” she said.

“Oh, Henny. You shouldn’t have.” Really, you shouldn’t have. He didn’t need a reminder.

“Are you kidding? The fact that you were my first tenant would be reason enough. But you launched Hen House Designs, and let me tell you—that, my friend, is the gift that keeps on giving.”

She looked around the room, toying with the rope of turquoise around her neck. “All packed up, eh. Well, I’m sorry to see you go.”

Sadly, she was the only one who felt that way.



Lauren jogged in place waiting to cross Atlantic Avenue. A breeze blew off the ocean, raising goose bumps on her sweat-soaked arms and legs. Every muscle throbbed, and her breath came fast but even and strong. She wished she didn’t have physical limitations, that she could keep running and running to the end of the island. To the end of the earth. She couldn’t stand the stillness of Nora’s house. Her body at rest was at the mercy of her merciless mind.

And as she returned to Nora’s house, she was sure it was her mind playing tricks on her when she saw Matt sitting on the front porch. She’d been trying so hard not to think about him.

He stood and walked toward her.

“I should have guessed you were out running. Though it’s a little later than usual, right?”

“Go away,” she said, suddenly light-headed. She leaned over, hands on her thighs.

“Just hear me out for a minute. I had no idea about Ethan. I’ve gone over all of my interviews, everything, in the past twenty-four hours, and frankly, there’s no way that I could have known. I simply didn’t have enough information to piece it all together. Maybe if I’d been looking for it. But I wasn’t.”

“Why do you have footage of him?”

“Lauren, I’m a filmmaker. I have footage of the inside of Sack O’ Subs. I saw a cute kid, I thought maybe it could be used for juxtaposition…there was nothing more to it.”

She stared at him, and he met her gaze, unblinking. It made sense. Maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

He glanced back at the porch. “Can we sit?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m leaving town and I just want a few more minutes with you.”