Chapter Seventeen

SEVENTEEN

There are rules to these things. Everything is survivable.

Once it was clear what sort of life Hal and I would be living together, what with his anger and his hands, I knew I needed to figure out some solutions. With Hal, there were all sorts of rules for all sorts of situations, and I was an expert at following them.

Most of them were no big deal at all. Don’t go into Hal’s office or touch his things. Don’t contradict or disagree with him—as much as it can be helped, anyway. Be sure he knows where I am at all times, that I have no time unaccounted for. And so on. Some were trickier than others. Not talking to men anymore, not even small talk with a cashier, was certainly tricky (as it turns out, men are everywhere), and not talking to Noelle was nearly impossible. Still, it was feasible, all of it.

The rules weren’t foolproof by any means. Sometimes they didn’t work; sometimes troubleshooting was needed. And when Hal had been drinking, the rules went out the window altogether. Nothing was particularly effective. I could perfectly follow the rule of letting him know where I was at all times, texting him before I left for the store, while I was there, and when I left with an estimated time of arrival that was precise down to the minute, and he would still be upset that I was at the store in the first place and also that I didn’t remember to buy oranges. I could ignore the seventh call in a row from Noelle, having gone over a month without speaking to her at all, and he would be upset that she called in the first place, or seemingly that she even existed. Nobody can create rules for these situations—they’re too specific, too arbitrary. So the rule was to do nothing. Brace for impact. For an evening, the house would become a conductor for chaos. I charted the progression of the storm, from slurring to yelling to stumbling to fists to unconsciousness to teary, heartfelt apologies that came either much later that night or the following morning. Clockwork.

Mind you, it wasn’t all difficult. There were good times, times when things were peaceful and everyone got along. There were times when Hal and I laughed over dinner, times when the three of us all went for ice cream and had a lovely evening, even Katherine. Once or twice, Hal and I even managed a weekend away at the beach, when Katherine was off on a school trip or staying over at a friend’s. I never really knew how long the good times would last—sometimes a few days, sometimes a few months—so it was best to enjoy the moments when they were around and not to worry about the future. When they lasted for a while, it was almost enough to make me think I’d solved it, that I’d finally figured out the right combination of behaviors to keep everything happy, blissful. Of course, nothing lasts forever—that’s just the cyclical nature of it all. However, if the rules were followed, the good times could last longer.

With Hal, the most important rule of all was about leaving—don’t do it. Don’t mention it. Don’t even think about it. If I had to pick just one rule to follow, it would be this one. Hal wasn’t afraid of many things—or at least he wasn’t before we moved here—but this was his biggest fear. It turned him into a cornered animal, lashing out, snarling with angry terror, unpredictable. But it never really mattered, because I wasn’t going anywhere. The trick was never to let Hal suspect I was thinking of it, even though I wasn’t. And definitely not when he’d been drinking.

That is all to say, I understood the rules and I knew when I needed to start playing by them. And I can’t tell you how I knew it, but I had a feeling that the house and Hal had the same sorts of feelings about my leaving. The thought had nibbled at my mind for a while, the way you can tell when there’s a tiny bit of gravel in your shoe. I never liked to spend time away from the house and always made sure to return as quickly as possible. I once left a full cart of groceries in the middle of the aisle when I spied how long the checkout lines were. No thank you. Sometimes even walks down to the mailbox had me hustling along, nearly jogging my way back to the front door. If there was a rule to it, it wasn’t particularly complex or even explicitly stated, but it was clear—don’t.

Okay,I thought. I won’t.

And that was all before Katherine came, before her little jaunts to bars and hotels brought limericks and paintings and songs. Little reminders everywhere of the pranksters disapproving of my extended trips away, signaling me to go back home. Nothing objectively threatening about any of it, but added together, it had the feel of a large person looming just behind me, scowling. There was something it was meant to communicate. We see you, Margaret. We know where you are. It wasn’t a particularly coherent message, but it was certainly a noticeable one.

If you ever leave,Hal once said to me, God as my witness, I will find you. Wherever you go, I’ll find you.

I don’t doubt it,I said.

Truly, I’d never understood what the fuss was about. I’d had no intentions of leaving Hal back then and I certainly had no intentions of leaving the house now. I loved it here. Sure, the house had its little idiosyncrasies and headaches, which could certainly get dangerous at times, but I loved it all the same. After all, if we didn’t love something, flaws included, what sort of love would that be? Yes, there were rules galore, but they were all feasible. Survivable. The house didn’t have to waste its time on little messages and subtle threats when I stepped out the door—I wasn’t going anywhere. I would stay here until I was pried out with a crowbar.

This is my home, and I am excellent at following the rules.