Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would black out and wake up sore. My husband just laughed and said I was out of shape. After the fourth trip, I hid a voice recorder in my purse — and that night I heard a phone call that made me realize the blackouts had never been accidents.

What she said, in the message, was: Pali, have a look at the charge on the register. It’s probably nothing. Just look at it.

Just look at it.

Four words. From the one person in that family who has never once been wrong about any of them.

Eleven words from a woman who has never been wrong about this family, in the September — four months before I handed a letter to my husband unopened to prove a point.

I have not told Carmen that I found that message.

I am going to. I have been going to for about five weeks and I have not managed it, and that is its own small ugly thing that I will have to deal with.

I moved out that night with one bag.

Carmen’s spare room for nineteen days, and then a rental on the other side of Lindell.

I have not been back inside that flat and I am not going to. Birgit’s clerk went for my things with two men and a list I wrote.