Tyler at college.

Some pictures looked normal until I stepped closer.

People had been cut out.

In one photograph, Tyler had his arm around someone, but half the picture was missing.

In another, a girl’s face had been scratched repeatedly with blue ink.

I recognized her.

Rachel.

Tyler’s girlfriend before me.

On a shelf beneath the photographs sat a cardboard shoebox filled with letters.

Beside it was a black composition notebook.

I opened it.

Linda’s handwriting filled the pages.

Most entries were ordinary.

Bills.

Church events.

Tyler’s school schedule.

Then I found Mark’s name.

Mark Parker.

Tyler’s father.

He had died when Tyler was eleven.

According to Tyler, Mark lost control of his car late one night on a county road.

One entry was dated several weeks before the crash.

Mark thinks he can take Tyler from me.

Another:

He keeps talking about divorce like he has a choice.

Then, several pages later:

Mark finally stopped trying.

I read that sentence three times.

There were other names too.

Aunt Denise.

A childhood friend named Kevin.

Rachel.

Another woman named Allison.

Beside Rachel’s name, Linda had written:

Girls like her think they can replace a mother.

I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned.

Tyler stood in the doorway.

His face went pale when he saw the notebook.

“Where did you get that?”

I held it up.

“Your mother’s room.”

He walked toward me.

“Megan, put it back.”

“Did your dad really die in an accident?”

Tyler stopped.

For several seconds, he didn’t answer.

Then he sat on one of the plastic bins.

“My dad was leaving her.”

I said nothing.

“He wanted me to go with him.”

Tyler looked at the photographs on the wall.

“After he died, my aunt stopped coming around. Mom said she was unstable. Kevin’s parents wouldn’t let him come over anymore. Rachel broke up with me after Mom showed up at her apartment.”

“And Allison?”

He looked down.

“Same kind of thing.”

I put the notebook into my purse.

Tyler noticed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not leaving this here.”

For once, he didn’t tell me to put it back.

I took out my phone and showed him the picture from the laundry room.

The bloody-looking sheet soaking in bleach.

The bandage on Linda’s arm.

Tyler stared at it.

His shoulders dropped.

“The stain wasn’t there because of anything you think happened.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

He opened his mouth.

A voice came from behind us.

“Go ahead, Tyler.”

Linda was standing in the basement doorway.

She had my phone in her hand.

I hadn’t even noticed I’d left it charging upstairs.

Linda looked at her son.

Then at the notebook sticking out of my purse.

“Tell your wife what you promised me when you saw my blood.”

The Promise Tyler Made

Tyler stood between his mother and me.

Linda still had my phone.

“Give that back,” I said.

She ignored me.

Her eyes stayed on Tyler.

“Tell her.”

Tyler rubbed both hands over his face.

Then he looked at me.

“Mom came into the bedroom after you went downstairs.”

Linda’s expression changed.

“Tyler.”

“No.”

It was the first time I’d heard him say that word to her without immediately softening it.

He continued.

“She brought paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“A quitclaim deed.”

I knew Linda’s house had originally belonged to both her and Mark. After Mark died, part of his interest had eventually passed to Tyler.

Linda had complained about it before.

She called it a technicality.

“She wanted me to sign my part of the house over to her.”

I looked at Linda.

“On our wedding night?”

Linda crossed her arms.

“It’s a family matter.”

Tyler shook his head.

“I told her no.”

His voice dropped.

“Then she said you were changing me.”

Linda stepped toward him.

“Be careful.”

Tyler didn’t move.

“She grabbed something from her sewing basket.”

He swallowed.

“She cut her own arm.”

For a second, the basement was completely quiet.

I thought about the bandage.

The bleach.

The reddish-brown stain.

“She pressed her arm against the sheet,” Tyler said. “Then she told me if I didn’t cooperate, she’d call the police and say I did it.”

Linda gave a short laugh.

“That’s ridiculous.”

I pointed toward my purse.

“I have a picture of your arm and the sheet.”

Linda’s smile disappeared.

Tyler looked at me.

“She made me promise I’d leave you within six months.”

I stared at him.

“And you agreed?”

He looked down.

“I panicked.”

“You let me walk into that room the next morning and think—”

“I know.”

“You pretended to be asleep.”

“I know.”

I stepped away from him.

Whatever Linda had done, Tyler had still chosen silence.

Linda seized on it immediately.

“See? She’ll never trust you now.”

Tyler looked at his mother.

“Stop.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“From my wife?”

Linda didn’t answer.

Mark Parker’s Accident

I reached for my phone.