Chapter 7
A Marriage in Inventory
They divided the house by coloured stickers.
Martin marked the walnut chair blue because his father had bought it. Celia marked it yellow because she had sat in it through Rowan's fevers, her mother's final telephone call and every Christmas Martin disappeared into cooking to avoid conversation.
"Objects don't prove ownership of memory," Martin said.
"Then stop using memory to claim the object."
The inventory became the first honest account of their marriage. He remembered providing. She remembered absorbing. Neither memory was wholly false, which made the damage harder to simplify.
Inside a travel guide Martin found a postcard addressed to Celia from Sam Ives, dated 1998.
THE MARLOWE STILL NEEDS SOMEONE STUBBORN, it read. SO DO I.
Martin held it like fresh evidence. "Did you love him?"
"Once."
"Did you keep this because you planned to leave?"
Celia took the card back. "I kept it because I didn't."
That answer frightened them both.