Vanessa’s were hers.
Renee filed for divorce that same week.
Her second son was born about two months later.
Healthy.
Seven pounds, nine ounces.
She sent me a photograph.
Small baby.
Blue blanket.
Tiny fist.
I showed Lily.
“Who’s that?”
“A friend’s baby.”
“Can I make him something?”
“What?”
“A sign.”
She got crayons.
The final sign said:
WELCOME BABY.
The letters barely fit.
I photographed Lily holding it and sent it to Renee.
She replied:
Perfect.
That was our relationship afterward.
Nothing romantic.
Nothing strange.
We had met because our spouses betrayed us.
We stayed in occasional contact because sometimes only the other person understood how bizarre it felt to grieve a family that still physically existed.
Tessa came to my house the Tuesday after Copper Room.
She sat at the kitchen table.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
She looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
“For sending the photo?”
“For not sending it sooner.”
I gave her coffee.
Tessa wrapped both hands around the mug.
“She started using me as cover maybe six months ago.”
“That early?”
Tessa nodded.
“At first I didn’t know.”
“What changed?”
“She’d meet me.”
“Dinner, drinks.”
“Then Grant would show up somewhere else.”
“Once she told me she was going home, and I saw her get into his car.”
Tessa looked ashamed.
“I confronted her.”
“What did she say?”
“That I was projecting because of my divorce.”
I almost laughed.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like her.”
“The second time I confronted her, she reminded me she let me stay here.”
Tessa’s voice broke.
“She said after everything she did for me, I could at least mind my own business.”
I looked at her.
“So you took the picture.”
“Not immediately.”
She wiped beneath one eye.
“That’s the part I hate.”
“I spent three weeks doing exactly what my friends did to me.”
“Knowing.”
“Saying nothing.”
“You eventually told us.”
“Eventually.”
“Tessa.”
She looked up.
“You were scared.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No.”
I did not rescue her from responsibility.
She did not want that.
“But you corrected it.”
She nodded.
“I bought a prepaid phone because I knew Vanessa would know it was me if I used my number.”
“How did you find Renee?”
“Company holiday photos.”
“Social media.”
“Then public contact information.”
She looked embarrassed.
“It sounds insane when I say it.”
“It was effective.”
She almost smiled.
“After I sent the picture, I thought Vanessa would know.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Why Copper Room?”
“Because Renee wanted to confront Grant somewhere public but controlled.”
“And you?”
“I wanted to stop hiding.”
I nodded.