Gone Girl(81)

So it had to stop. Committing to Nick, feeling safe with Nick, being happy with Nick, made me realize that there was a Real Amy in there, and she was so much better, more interesting and complicated and challenging, than Cool Amy. Nick wanted Cool Amy anyway. Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you? So that’s how the hating first began. I’ve thought about this a lot, and that’s where it started, I think.





NICK DUNNE

SEVEN DAYS GONE

I made it a few steps into the woodshed before I had to lean against the wall and catch my breath.

I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it once I figured out the clue: woodshed. Midday fun. Cocktails. Because that description was not me and Amy. It was me and Andie. The woodshed was just one of many strange places where I’d had sex with Andie. We were restricted in our meeting spots. Her busy apartment complex was mostly a no go. Motels show up on credit cards, and my wife was neither trusting nor stupid. (Andie had a MasterCard, but the statement went to her mom. It hurts me to admit that.) So the woodshed, deep behind my sister’s house, was very safe when Go was at work. Likewise my father’s abandoned home (Maybe you feel guilty for bringing me here / I must admit it felt a bit queer / But it’s not like we had the choice of many a place / We made the decision: We made this our space), and a few times, my office at school (I picture myself as your student / With a teacher so handsome and wise / My mind opens up [not to mention my thighs!]), and once, Andie’s car, pulled down a dirt road in Hannibal after I’d taken her for a visit one day, a much more satisfying reenactment of my banal field trip with Amy (You took me here so I could hear you chat / About your boyhood adventures: crummy jeans and visor hat).

Each clue was hidden in a spot where I’d cheated on Amy. She’d used the treasure hunt to take me on a tour of all my infidelities. I had a shimmer of nausea as I pictured Amy trailing oblivious me in her car – to my dad’s, to Go’s, to goddamn Hannibal – watching me f*ck this sweet young girl, my wife’s lips twisting in disgust and triumph.

Because she knew she’d punish me good. Now at our final stop, Amy was ready for me to know how clever she was. Because the woodshed was packed with about every gizmo and gadget that I swore to Boney and Gilpin I hadn’t bought with the credit cards I swore I didn’t know anything about. The insanely expensive golf clubs were here, the watches and game consoles, the designer clothes, they were all sitting here, in wait, on my sister’s property. Where it looked like I’d stored them until my wife was dead and I could have a little fun.

I knocked on Go’s front door, and when she answered, smoking a cigarette, I told her I had to show her something, and I turned around and led her without a word to the woodshed.

‘Look,’ I said, and ushered her toward the open door.

‘Are those—Is that all the stuff … from the credit cards?’ Go’s voice went high and wild. She put one hand to her mouth and took a step back from me, and I realized that just for a second, she thought I was making a confession to her.

We’d never be able to undo it, that moment. For that alone, I hated my wife.

‘Amy’s framing me, Go,’ I said. ‘Go, Amy bought this stuff. She’s framing me.’

She snapped to. Her eyelids clicked once, twice, and she gave a tiny shake of her head, as if to rid herself of the image: Nick as wife killer.

‘Amy’s framing me for her murder. Right? Her last clue, it led me right here, and no, I didn’t know about any of this stuff. It’s her grand statement. Presenting: Nick Goes to Jail! ’ A huge, burpy air bubble formed at the back of my throat – I was going to sob or laugh. I laughed. ‘I mean, right? Holy f*ck, right?’

So hurry up, get going, please do / And this time I’ll teach you a thing or two. The final words of Amy’s first clue. How did I not see it?

‘If she’s framing you, why let you know?’ Go was still staring, transfixed by the contents of her shed.

‘Because she’s done it so perfectly. She always needed that validation, the praise, all the time. She wants me to know I’m being f*cked. She can’t resist. It wouldn’t be fun for her otherwise.’

‘No,’ Go said, chewing on a nail. ‘There’s something else. Something more. Have you touched anything in here?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Then the question becomes …’

‘What does she think I’ll do when I find this, this incriminating evidence, on my sister’s property,’ I said. ‘That’s the question, because whatever she assumes I’ll do, whatever she wants me to do, I have to do the opposite. If she thinks I’ll freak out and try to get rid of all this stuff, I guarantee you she has a way I’ll get busted with it.’

‘Well, you can’t leave it here,’ Go said. ‘You’ll definitely get busted that way. Are you sure that was the last clue? Where’s your present?’

‘Oh. Shit. No. It must be inside somewhere.’

‘Don’t go in there,’ Go said.

‘I have to. God knows what else she’s got in store.’

I stepped carefully into the dank shed, keeping my hands tight by my sides, walking delicately on tiptoes so as not to leave tread marks. Just past a flat-screen TV, Amy’s blue envelope sat on top of a huge gift box, wrapped in her beautiful silvery paper. I took the envelope and the box back outside into the warm air. The object inside the package was heavy, a good thirty pounds, and broken into several pieces that slid with a strange rattle as I set the box on the ground at our feet. Go took an involuntary quick step away from it. I slid open the envelope.