"What does cooperative statement mean?" I asked.
"We would need them to explain precisely. But I do not want you discussing your criminal allegations as a bargaining chip in divorce negotiations. You are entitled to tell the truth. The prosecutor decides what charges to pursue, and any civil settlement has to stand on its own terms."
"He wants me to say I knew about the loan."
"It may be what he hopes to achieve. We won't assume their intent without asking, but we won't make any statement you believe is false."
I thought about the way Ryan used to sit across our dining table and tell me that the company needed unity, that families protected their own, that an embarrassing dispute was more dangerous than the problem that caused it. In the past, the word unity had been the final argument because it made my objections sound selfish. Sitting in Camila's office, I recognized the same pressure in the language of amicable resolution.
"Tell them I will cooperate with truthful requests for information," I said. "And that I'm not going to sign anything unless I understand it and believe it."
Camila made a note. "That is a very good place to start."
My return to work was harder than I expected. The airline offered me a short leave after the incident, and I accepted several days because I had barely slept. When I reported for my first flight afterward, a routine domestic trip to Denver, I felt my pulse quicken as I stepped onto the jet bridge. There was no Ryan at the end of it, no red dress, no hidden document waiting in a handbag. My body reacted anyway.
Denise was on the crew that morning. She noticed me pause near the doorway and did not pretend she hadn't. "Do you want me to take the lead for boarding?" she asked.
I considered it. The old version of me would have refused because I thought needing help weakened the claim that I was capable. This time I nodded. "For the first ten minutes," I said. "Then let me try."
We traded places without ceremony. I checked the cabin supplies while she welcomed passengers, and when my breathing returned to normal, I stepped forward and resumed my duties. A little boy with a stuffed dinosaur asked whether the airplane could fly all the way to the moon. I told him our route was taking us to Denver and that the moon would require a rather different aircraft. He laughed so delightedly that the sound startled a real smile out of me.
Later, during the flight, a passenger dropped a coffee and began apologizing frantically. I knelt beside the seat, helped contain the spill, and assured her that we could clean it without anyone being embarrassed. She looked relieved. As I stood, it occurred to me that I had spent most of my professional life telling strangers they did not have to panic over accidents while allowing the deliberate choices of someone I loved to make me doubt my own judgment.