“I’m not trying to be funny,” I said. “I married Ron five years ago. I buried him and our daughter three years ago.”
A door down the hall cracked open. Mrs. Denning from 3B peeked out, eyes wide.
“I married Ron five years ago.”
“How can you be alive?” I asked.
His face drained of color, and he moved back like I had struck him.
“Give me five minutes,” he said hoarsely. “Give me five minutes, Katie.”
The woman’s voice shook when she spoke.
“Katie? Our daughter has the same name as this woman? Who is she, Ron?”
“How can you be alive?”
“I don’t need five minutes, Ron,” I interrupted. “I just need the truth.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
“Carla, take our child inside.”
But Carla didn’t move right away. She just stared at me, then at her husband.
“I just need the truth.”
“Who is she?” she repeated.
“I’m the woman who buried your husband,” I said, holding her gaze. “And I’m so sorry you didn’t know the truth. I don’t know the truth either, it seems.”
Silence swallowed the hallway.
Carla’s hand tightened around her daughter. After a long moment, she turned and carried the little girl into their apartment.
Silence swallowed the hallway.
Ron stood there, staring at me like he was looking at a life he thought he had escaped.
“Inside.”
Then he followed me.
He stood near my kitchen counter like he might bolt at any second.
He followed me.
“You have five minutes,” I said. “Tell me the truth. After that, you can go back to your new life.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t know you lived here, Katie.”
“That’s clear.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I didn’t die,” he said finally.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I noticed, Ron. You look very alive.”
He swallowed.
“I was in debt. More than I could fix. There were business loans, credit cards, and things I didn’t tell you about. I thought I could handle it.”
“And when you couldn’t?”
“I panicked, Katie. That’s all I can say.”
“I was in debt. More than I could fix.”
“So you let me bury you?”
“It wasn’t supposed to turn into a funeral,” he said quickly. “I just wanted to buy more time, but then things got complicated quickly.”
“To do what? Start over?”
“To survive,” he snapped, then immediately looked ashamed.
I stepped closer. “Debt collectors called me for months, Ron. They came to the house. They froze accounts I didn’t even know existed. I had to explain to strangers why my husband was dead and still owing money. I lost the house trying to pay it all back.”
“To do what?”
