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Back at Rachel’s apartment Wendy let herself in with the spare key she’d been given. There was a note on the kitchen table naming a bar within walking distance that said “Join us there!” She wasn’t particularly in the mood for Rachel’s manic energy that night, but she was famished and went into Rachel’s room to change her outfit.
The next day she told Rachel and Josh that she was too hungover to go out for brunch but that they should go themselves. As soon as they left, she got dressed herself and walked the now-familiar route across Cambridge to Thom’s hotel. She found him outside on the sidewalk, wearing khakis and a plaid shirt, smoking a cigarette and shivering slightly. “Should we go get lunch somewhere?” Wendy said.
“Let’s go back to my room first. I want to talk with you.” He seemed serious as he said it, his face tight, and as she followed him up the uneven stairs to his second-floor room, she thought to herself that it was nice while it lasted.
But once they were alone in the room, the door shut, Thom took a deep breath and said, “Let’s do it. Let’s kill Bryce.”
“What?”
“Just hear me out, and I’ll understand if you want to turn around and never see me again, but I need to say this. I feel like we’ve been given an opportunity, this chance for a really remarkable life. It’s not just the money, it’s the statement we’ll be making about ourselves. It will bind us, in a way. Bind us more I mean. We’ve always been bonded. Since that trip to D.C., since we found out we have the same birthday, and I’m not saying we were meant to do this, but it feels that way to me. It feels like we’re special. Let’s kill one horrible man and then we’ll spend the rest of our lives as millionaires atoning for it.” He smiled even though his face was still tight.
Wendy could feel the breath moving in and out of her lungs. “You’re serious?”
“I think so.” Thom sat down on the edge of the bed and in the dim light he didn’t look any different from when she’d first met him.
“You think so?”
“I haven’t slept all night. I just keep thinking about it.”
“I’ll just divorce him. It’ll be messy, but I’ll be free of him. We won’t be poor, exactly, you and I.”
“What about your mother?”
Wendy sat down next to Thom on the bed. “I do worry about her. But we’ll figure it out.”
“Last night when I was in and out of sleep, I kept having this strange half dream, that I knew that one day your husband would do a terrible thing. Like he was a serial killer or a politician; he would start a war.”
“Like inThe Dead Zone.”
“Yes, exactly. I think... and I know this is ridiculous... that we are somehow fated to do this. It’s an evil act, but it’s for the greater good.”
“I don’t think Bryce is a serial killer and there is no way he would ever run for political office, but if I’m honest, I think he’s someone who makes the world a lesser place. I thought I saw something else in him once, but it’s not really there. I just pretended there was more to him so I could justify marrying him for his money.”
“Do you want me to stop talking about this?” Thom said.
Wendy pretended to think, then said, “No, we can keep talking about it. It’s just hard not to see that we’re in some kind of movie and we’re about to make a terrible decision and everyone knows it but us.”
“If we did this, we wouldn’t get caught. We wouldn’t turn against one another. We would make something remarkable of our lives. We’d give half the money to charity.”
“Half?” Wendy said.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“And we’re special. You know that, right? You feel it, too, don’t you?”
And Wendy, honestly and without hesitation, said, “I do.”
1991
August
The crowd around the registration tables seemed to part, allowing Wendy Eastman, eight years older than when he’d last seen her, to emerge into his sight line in all her adult perfection. Thom had already picked up his name badge and schedule and was now standing awkwardly amid a cluster of fellow attendees, deciding what to do next. The weekend retreat was an annual affair at Kokosing College in Ohio called the Aspiring Writers’ Conference, designed for recent college graduates interested in a career in creative writing.
Wendy spotted Thom a moment after he’d seen her, and she walked toward him, somehow appearing nonplussed by the coincidence of their meeting. There was a smirk on her face and Thom found himself laughing as she stopped in front of him. “Am I funny?” she said.
“I can’t believe it’s you.”