3

The police station sat at the far end of the alley.

The moment I walked in, the officer on duty looked up. "Comrade, what can I do for you?"

I didn't waste words. I reached into my shirt, pulled out the creased marriage certificate, and slapped it down on his desk.

"Comrade, I'm here to report a crime." My voice was level.

"I'm reporting my husband, Bob Stephens, for bigamy and misconduct!"

The young officer sat up straight, picked up the certificate, thumbed through it, then looked back at me. "This Bob Stephens you're talking about, is he the one who lives at 3 Maple Lane?"

"Yes." I nodded, my face flat.

"That's him!"

He frowned, as if he doubted me.

Bob had always had a good reputation.

And the officer had never heard that he'd been married before.

"Take your time. Lay it all out for me. You're certain Bob Stephens has committed bigamy?"

"I am." I nodded, dragged a stool over, and sat down across from him.

Then I told him everything from seven years ago, start to finish.

From the day Bob got his rural labor notice and vanished, to how I went in his place.

I didn't embellish, and I didn't hold anything back. I laid out each piece, one by one.

When I finished, his pen paused. He took off his cap and scratched his head. "All right, I've got everything you said down. I'm going to go verify it now. If it's convenient for you... you can come along."

"Fine." I agreed without a second's hesitation.

I'd spent seven years in Millstone Village. God only knew what Bob had told people about me in all that time.

I picked up our marriage certificate and went with him to the Stephens house.

4

By the time we reached the Stephens's door, the smell of cooking drifted out of the yard, and I could hear a child laughing and shrieking.

I knocked. Hearing the sound, old Mrs. Stephens came running out to open the door.

When she saw it was me, the enamel mug in her hand hit the ground with a clang.

"Vio... Violet?" The color drained from her face.

"You... how are you back?"

"My time in the labor assignment was up, so of course I came back." I stood in the yard and looked at her, my voice flat.

"What? You didn't want me to come back?"

She took a step backward and forced a laugh. "How could that be... I'm nothing but glad you're back. It's good, it's good, I'll go straighten up your room right now. You've been gone so long, the place has gathered dust..."

"No need to straighten anything." I cut her off, my voice cold.

"I came back today to make one thing plain. I know everything Bob's done these past years, and I want a divorce! As for the rest, you can explain it to the officer here!"

She froze, and only then noticed the officer standing behind me. She dropped to her knees in front of me with a thud.

"Violet! Violet, I'm begging you! Let Bob off, please! You report this and his job is gone, and he'll go to prison, Violet! You can't be this hard-hearted..."

She kowtowed as she spoke.

But there wasn't an ounce of softness left in me.

"Mother, do you have any idea how much I suffered in that godforsaken place in his place?" My voice shook a little, but I didn't cry.

"I almost got assaulted. I almost starved to death out there. Think about it, really. Who's the hard-hearted one here? And now you want me to let him off? Then who pays me back for seven years of hell?"

At that she collapsed on the ground and wailed. "I know I've wronged you... I know, I know it all... Violet, whatever you want, we'll give it to you. Take this house. Take every cent I've saved. Just spare Bob, all right? He's my only son... I can't watch him rot in prison!"

"I don't want any of it." I set my bedroll against the wall.

"All I want is justice! I went and did his labor assignment for him while he stayed home warm in bed with a wife and a child. Where in the world is anyone handed a bargain like that? He has to pay for what he did!"

Maybe my voice was too loud, or maybe old Mrs. Stephens's wailing was.

Bob, who'd been inside playing with the child, finally heard the commotion and pushed open the door.

The next second.

He went rigid, frozen on the steps as if he'd turned to ice.

"Violet? You... you're back?"

04

5

He still had on that flowered apron, spattered with grease, and the sight of it stung my eyes.

In the three years we were married, he never once set foot in the kitchen.

I ignored him and stepped aside to clear the way for the officer behind me. "That's him, comrade."

The officer took a step forward, pulled out his ID and flashed it. "Bob Stephens, right? You've been reported for bigamy. Come with us and cooperate with the investigation."

The color drained from Bob's face the instant he heard it.

He rushed to explain, panic all over him. "Officer, there's been a misunderstanding, she... she's my ex-wife... we divorced a long time ago." Then he lunged at me, reaching for my hand.

"Violet, I know I was wrong, I know I owe you. Whatever you want, whatever it takes to make it up to you, I'll give it, just don't push me off a cliff. Getting into the machine-tool factory wasn't easy for me. If I go in, my whole life is finished."

I stepped back, out of his reach, and forced down the nausea rising in my throat.

"Bob, when exactly did we divorce? Since when am I your ex-wife?" I pulled out that creased marriage certificate and flung it in his face.

"If you're going to talk, back it up. You say we divorced, so where's the divorce paper? Show it to the officer!"

Bob had nothing to say to that.

Just then the woman with the curls heard the noise and came out too, holding onto the doorframe.

She was carrying a bowl of pot roast she'd just dished up.

The smell of it drifted over and turned my stomach.

In Millstone Village I'd gone almost a year without smelling meat.

The first time I smelled it again, and it came from the three of them.

Martha set the bowl down on the threshold and looked me up and down out of the corner of her eye. "So you're Violet? Bob's told me about you. You went off to that labor assignment for him of your own free will. Nobody tied you up and dragged you there. Now you're back and you want to ruin him. What kind of person does that?"

"What kind of person does that?" I laughed, and the laugh shook through my whole body.

"I did seven years of hard time in his place. You took my name and my place and had seven good years with him, and now I'm the one in the wrong? Comrade, you're living with a married man and you had his child. That's a misconduct charge. If we're really going to count things up, you don't come out clean either. Instead of standing there sneering at me, you'd better think about what happens to your kid once you're taken in."

The woman with the curls, who a moment ago had thought she held all the right, went white the instant she heard it.

She truly hadn't expected me to be ruthless enough to want her sent in too.

She pointed at me, her lips trembling so hard she couldn't get out a full sentence. "You... don't you go slandering me! Bob and I registered fair and square. How does that make it a misconduct charge!"

I couldn't be bothered to keep arguing with her. I turned straight to the officer. "Officer, since she says they registered fair and square, then I'll trouble you to take her in for questioning too. What's true and what's false will all come out once it's investigated."

The officer nodded. Things had come this far. How could he not see who was lying?

If the Stephens family had nothing to hide, would Bob's mother have dropped to her knees the moment she saw me?

He stepped forward. "Bob Stephens, Comrade Martha Fox, please come with me."

That was the moment I learned the name of the wife Bob had taken. Martha Fox.

The garment factory director's daughter.