Another pause.
“Oh my God,” Clara says. “And?”
“I told him I didn’t want this.”
“You what?”
“I told him I didn’t want this,” I repeat quietly.
Clara lets out a long exhale.
“Era… I swear you make decisions that stress me out.”
“I’m married, Clara.”
“Yes,” she says quickly. “To a man who may or may not have blood on his hands.”
I stop walking for a second.
“Clara.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “You need to get out of that house.”
“What?”
“Era, listen to me,” she continues. “You said he came home with bloody hands. That’s not normal. That’s scary.”
“You’re overthinking things. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I am.”
Clara sighs dramatically on the other end of the phone.
“If you end up on the news I’m going to be very mad at you.”
Despite everything, I laugh quietly.
By now I’ve wandered toward the small park a few blocks from the house. The jogging path curves around a line of trees, the afternoon sun filtering through the branches. That’s when I notice someone jogging toward me. Marcus. Dominic’s coworker.
“Hey,” I say quickly into the phone. “Clara, I’ll call you back.”
“Era—”
But I hang up before she can finish. Marcus slows down when he sees me. “Hey!” he says, pulling off his headphones.
“Hey, Marcus.”
He smiles. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I live close by,” I say.
“Same,” he replies. “This park is basically my therapy after long shifts.” He stretches his arms slightly. “I’m finally off today. First day off in a while.”
“That must feel nice.”
“Oh, it does,” he says. “Emily and I were starting to forget what daylight looks like.” He pauses. “How’s Dom?”