I should have hung up.

Instead I asked whether we could meet before the courthouse.

I needed to see the face of the only person involved who seemed to understand consent.

PART 3

We met outside a bakery at seven thirty.

Silas brought no ring and made no promises.

He ordered coffee and put his hands flat on the table while I explained how my family had threatened my job, my housing, and even my right to return for my mother’s belongings.

“I don’t want a husband,” I told him.