In retrospect, of course, it seemed insane that I had ever agreed to this arrangement. Even as careful as we’d been - all the effort we’d gone to, trying to make sure we seemed legitimate - all it took was one careless slip by his lawyer and a vengeful ex. Something neither one of us could have seen coming, not from a million miles away.
We went to bed late that night, and I don’t think either of us slept at all. I went about my day mechanically, not really aware of what I was actually doing, and Daniel came home from work early just to sit on the sofa and stare off into space, with a slight frown on his face.
Things went on like that for days - we barely spoke, except to re-hash the same conversations over and over again, how could this have happened, can you believe it, what’s going to happen if…
Daniel had dark circles under his eyes, growing darker every day. I was sure I didn’t look any better, but I hardly left the house, so it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this awful. It was the sort of stress that wears away at you slowly, the kind that rarely spikes to panic proportions, but that sits quietly, draining your energy with every heartbeat, until you can hardly keep your eyes open - but of course, you can’t sleep. It’s ever-present, murmuring awful thoughts in your ear, until it commands nearly all of your attention. You want nothing more than to ignore it, but you can’t.
One morning, after weeks of this, I went to fetch the mail as I always did. In spite of everything, I still felt a spike of mixed fear and anticipation every time I unlocked the box - I don’t know what I expected to find.
But today, I found it.
There was an envelope from the INS. I opened it with shaking hands, my vision going black around the edges as I struggled to focus on the words.
Dear Mr. Thorne,
Your application for permanent residency has been processed and accepted…
I fumbled with my phone, barely having the presence of mind to rush back to the apartment before I called so I wasn’t babbling about the INS and residency applications in front of God and everyone.
He answered just as I slammed the front door behind me.
“There’s a letter,” I blurted out, “it says they accepted your application. Does that mean…?”
He was silent for a moment. “I think so,” he said. “I think…I think so.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
“I’m coming home early. I need to arrange some things. And I’d like to see it.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Right. See you in a minute.”
I sat down, heavily, on the sofa. So this was it. This was what it had all been for. Why did I feel like punching a hole in the goddamn wall?
Chapter Fifteen
When Daniel walked through the door, he didn’t say a word to me - didn’t even shed his laptop bag and coat at the door. He just walked straight over to me with his hand outstretched, and I held out the letter obediently. His eyes scanned all over it, quickly, from top to bottom and then once more.#p#分页标题#e#
“Well,” he said, setting it down on the coffee table.
“Well,” I agreed.
He finally lifted the strap of the bag over his head, setting it down on the floor, and stripped out of his coat. He sat down next to me and stared at his hands for a moment.
“I’ve been consulting with some people,” he said. “My new lawyer - chosen very carefully, I promise. I don’t think she’ll have quite as much of a weakness for Flo as Wegman did. And I talked to some people on the inside who are pulling for me. They’ve all agreed that we’re through the woods now. There’ll be no more interviews or surprise visits. The decision’s been made, the file’s been sealed. So really - there’s no reason to keep doing this.”
I stared at him. “Sorry?”
“I know what the contract says.” He met my eyes, finally. I couldn’t quite read his face. “Six more months. But I’m willing to break it, if you are. I can have the money by tomorrow.”
I clasped my fingers together tightly in my lap. “I think that’s a little premature. I promise I’ll stop throwing things at your head.”
He let out a little huff of laughter. “Regardless,” he said. “I think this will be better for both of us. Don’t you?”
I bit my lip. “I always just…I guess I just figured we’d stick to the terms of our agreement.”
“I did too. But wouldn’t you rather go home?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I thought this would be an easy decision for you. I wouldn’t have brought it up, otherwise.”