Need to Know by Karen Cleveland Read Free Book Online Page B

tracks of Ella’s train set, piece by piece. We’re alone now, just the two of us. We can talk.
    Why does it matter?
I have to turn him in, regardless of what he says. I know that, deep down. But there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it. That believes there’s a way out of this.
    I look up at him, still at the sink, now drying a pan with a dish towel. I stop breaking down the train tracks and sit back on my heels. I realize I don’t even know where to begin. “What kind of information do you give them?” I finally ask.
    His hands still, and then he looks up. “Nothing of value. Atmospherics. If you’re stressed at work, or happy. That kind of thing.”
    “You must give them more than that.” I think back to what I might have said over the years that I shouldn’t have, and my mind settles on my coworkers. There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. “Oh God. Marta. Trey. You’re the reason they were pitched, aren’t you?
We
are the reason they were pitched.”
    His face registers surprise, then confusion. “No.”
    I’m frantically turning over what I’ve said to him. That Marta’s always the first to suggest an office happy hour, those awkward ones where a dozen people sit in the conference room for a half hour in the afternoon, bags of chips, sometimes a plate of cookies, a few bottles of wine. That she usually brings two and they’re always gone by the end of the day, even though half the office doesn’t drink and she’s the only one who ever refills her little plastic cup. And the bottle of whiskey in her bottom drawer—I’ve told him about that, too. The time I saw her splash some into her coffee.
    And Trey. I distinctly remember a conversation, years ago. “He calls Sebastian his ‘roommate,’ ” I said to Matt, using air quotes and rolling my eyes. “Why doesn’t he just admit the truth? It’s not like any of us would care.”
    “I told you those things in confidence,” I whisper now, filled with an overwhelming sense of betrayal.
    “Viv, I swear. I never breathed a word of it.”
    “They were pitched, Matt. I’m supposed to believe that’s a
coincidence
?”
    “Look, I don’t know anything about that. But I promise you I’ve never said anything about them.”
    I stare at him. He seems sincere. But I don’t know what to believe anymore. I shake my head, look down at the train tracks, continue pulling the pieces apart. I hear him go back to drying dishes, putting them away in the cabinets where they belong.
    We’re quiet for a few minutes, until he speaks again. “I’m telling you the truth, Viv. I haven’t told them anything useful, and it doesn’t seem to bother them. I think I’m considered a win already.”
    “Because you’re married to me.”
    “Yeah.” He looks embarrassed.
    I toss the last of the train tracks into the bin and close the lid, then slide it over against the wall. That’s our family room organization. Clear plastic bins of toys, stacked against a wall. “Are you loyal to…Russia?” The words sound so strange coming out of my mouth.
    “I’m loyal to you.”
    I think of the American flag that hangs outside, the Fourth of July parades, the sparklers. Matt taking off his cap, hand over heart as he mouths the words to the National Anthem at baseball games. The time I heard him telling Luke how lucky we are to live in the greatest country in the world. “Russia or America?”
    “America. Of course America. You know me, Viv. You know what I believe in.”
    “Do I?”
    “I was a kid. An orphan. I had no choice.”
    “You always have a choice.”
    “Not in Russia.”
    I’m quiet. “Your loyalty. It was to Russia once.”
    “Sure. At first I believed in what I was doing. I was Russian, and I was brainwashed. But living here…seeing the truth…”
    I catch sight of a sippy cup wedged behind the toy kitchen and reach for it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “How could I?”
    “You’ve had ten years. Any single day in the past ten