In the Company of Liars

ONE DAY EARLIER
SATURDAY, MARCH 20

Ikilled Sam.

You want to protect me, but you can’t.

Pointing at you is pointing at Jessica.

Mat parks his Mercedes in Allison’s driveway. It’s like old times, a tradition for them. The city is crawling with great weekend breakfast spots, and Allison needed the time out. The place where they went is well within the confines of her conditional bond. It’s a place they’ve been many times, in fact. Mat, true to his nature, stuck with his favorites, in this case an omelet with chorizo and goat cheese. She could make a short list of his favorite foods and would bet her mortgage that Mat would not stray from those few items, regardless of the restaurant. Veal piccata. New York strip, medium-rare with crumbled blue cheese. Cheese ravioli.Carne asada. Omelette with chorizo and goat cheese. Or a good old cheeseburger.

“Thanks,” she says, and this part is new. Thanking him for breakfast. It’s one of those subtle changes that comes with divorce. Nothing is taken for granted now.

“It was fun,” he responds without looking at her. He has that same sensation, she imagines. It’s still weird, their relationship since the divorce last year.

“We should go in.” Allison looks at Mat. Neither of them is particularly excited.

I killed him. I killed Sam.

We have to protect Jessica. Pointing at you is pointing at her.

Inside, she offers Mat coffee but he declines. He sits on the burgundy couch that is no longer his, although if anything in this house should go to Allison, it is this old piece. Mat never really cared for the couch, anyway. Objectively, Allison wouldn’t disagree. A dark purple couch in a room that was otherwise black-and-white. But it was the only piece of furniture from her old house where she grew up, and she would never consider getting rid of it.

“So-what we were saying at brunch.” Mat is calling to Allison, who is in the kitchen. “I want you to think hard about this.”

Allison comes into the living room and sits across from him in the leather chair. Mat looks at her briefly but his eyes wander. This is not his strong suit here, his attempts to help her. She will have to carry the ball, a phrase he often used.

“You want me to think hard,” Allison says, “about my lawyer claiming that you killed Sam? And framed me? And he puts you on the stand, and you refuse to answer? So that you look guilty, not me?”

“Yes,” Mat says. “It could be enough.”

“The judge wouldn’t buy it.” Allison shakes her head.

It’s worth a shot.

“We should at least consider it,” Mat says.

“It would ruin your career.”

I don’t have a career. Not anymore.

“My career.”Mat has already suffered considerably from the allegations surrounding the Divalpro legislation. There are at least three state senators who would never speak to him again, would feel threatened if they did. That kind of thing spreads like cancer in the capital. Mat’s career as a lobbyist is effectively over. “Tell me that’s not the only reason.”

“It’s not the only reason.”

Mat is silent. He is working this through in his head, trying to keep everything straight.

He is older now in so many ways. He has lost so much in so short a time. He has maintained his composure publicly but she can see it all over him. He has lost his wife’s love. He has lost much of his career. And he must know, he must have some sense of self-incrimination for all of this.

I killed Sam.

“I killed Sam, Mat,” Allison says. “I suppose you already know that.”

Allison rubs her hands together. She is feeling a chill. Mat cannot look at her at all now.

“That’s not the point,” he says.

“No, here’s the point.” Allison walks over to the mantel and takes a photograph of Jessica. “Sheis the point, Mat. Jessica.”

Mat looks again at the mantel, past the photo of Jessica. Their wedding candle, their unity candle, used to sit here. It is now in a box in the basement. The pictures of Mat are gone, as well, which surely has not escaped his notice. The mantel is now little more than a shrine to their daughter.

“If they start looking at you,” Allison says, “they might start looking at Jess, too.”

He turns his head to the side, not facing her but acknowledging her. There is no answer to that comment. If they have nothing else, they have the love of their daughter in common.

Mat looks at his watch. “You’re going to be late for your little ‘meeting.’ ”

He’s talking about her weekly visit with Larry Evans at the grocery store. “Larry’s been a help,” Allison says. “He believes in me.”

“He’s really going to write the book?”

Mat is being shut out from her writing career, is the point of all this. He’s playing the jealous ex-husband.

“He’s a good writer,” she says. “He’s shown me some stuff. And he has sources. It’s been very helpful.”

Mat shakes his head. “Fine.”

“I need someone on my side,” she says. “I needsomeone I can count on.”

Mat shoots her a look.

“You can go now, Mat. Thanks for breakfast.” Allison walks into the kitchen and places a hand, for balance, on the sink, before she runs the water and splashes it on her face.

I killed Sam. I won’t point at you because it would point at Jessica.

Okay.

Allison looks at her watch. Time to meet Larry.