Nathan's hands are sweating as he reaches for the lock on the gate. But the gate isn't locked; it's barely closed. He runs up the walk- even the front door is unlocked!- and into the house. The entryway seems darker and colder than it should. Even when he lived alone, the house never seemed this dismal. He checks the first floor: no one. Next he checks their bedroom: no Marni. He's running all over the second floor, calling her name, panic building in him second by silent second, when he hears water running in the bathroom. He nearly breaks down the door before he reins himself in and knocks instead. There is no answer, and Nathan tries the knob. Locked. The only door in the house, probably, that is locked. He knocks louder, and this time, he hears a faint sob of "Go away."
"Marni, please open the door," Nathan calls. Once again, there is no response. He doesn't want to leave her, but he runs downstairs to the kitchen to get the skeleton key from its hook on the cabinet. When he finally gets the door open, he sees nothing too out of the ordinary. Everything is in its proper place, the heather blue shower curtain is drawn and the shower is indeed running. Still, Nathan feels the same sense of dread that he did this morning: something's wrong. The air is thick with shower mist, but the mist is cold enough to make him shiver. And above the rush of the water, he thinks he can hear Marni crying in half-second bursts.
"Marni, what's wrong?" This time, he knows he hears a sob. He pulls back the shower curtain; Marni is standing under the spray, eyes closed, scrubbing at her scalp. Her skin is blotchy and covered in goosebumps. Her lips are blue and she is shivering, but she shows no inclination to turn off the water. Nathan does this for her. He and the room are both rather damp now, but he's too concerned about Marni to care. Her eyes are still closed and her hands remain in her hair, moving back and forth, back and forth, but now, without the sound of water smashing against the bathtub, Nathan can hear a soft scraping sound. He takes her wrists in his hands ever so gently and guides them out of her hair. There is blood under each fingernail.
"God, Marni, what have you done?" Nathan whispers to her hands. At this, she opens her eyes and looks at him, and the look in those eyes is one of utter defeat.
"I'm sorry, Nathan," she croaks. "I tried."
"Shh, it's okay," he whispers, finally able to hug her for the first time today. "It's all right." He can feel her shivering against him, and without completely letting her go, he opens the cabinet next to the shower and takes out a fresh bath towel. This, he wraps around her torso, below her arms. Then he picks up another towel, uses it to softly squeeze the excess moisture from her hair, and drapes it over her head and around her shoulders. She looks like a picture of one of the old saints. He kisses her forehead, and after pausing as if to ask permission, lifts her bridal-style and carries her down the hall to their room. Her arms are folded over her stomach, somehow making her seem far away. All the while, she murmurs, "I'm so sorry," over and over into his shoulder.
Nathan wonders what she thinks she could have done. He's beginning to think that the horrible scenarios that kept running through his head at work aren't so far off the mark, and he's got half a mind to hunt down whoever hurt his Marni. She's torturing herself. She doesn't deserve to hurt like this. He sets her down on their bed, where she immediately curls into a ball. Within minutes, she's asleep, and Nathan is alone with his fears. At first, he just watches her sleep, watches the tension and fear and guilt leave her face. He gets her comb from the dresser, removes the towel from her head- gently, so as not to wake her- and combs the tangles from her hair. Once, he thinks he sees her smile, but the moment is over too fast for him to be sure. She lies with her hair spread around her like a sunburst against the white towel, his sleeping angel. And he needs to know what went wrong.
He doesn't want to leave her, but he doesn't want to wake her either. He doesn't know what she'll do if she wakes up alone. In the end, he locks her in and goes downstairs. There's a phone in the kitchen. He dials. He hears ringing and then a click as the phone at the other end picks up.
"Hello?" The voice is a woman's, low and smooth.
"Mag, it's Nathan," he says.
"Hi, Nathan."
"Listen, Mag…" He rubs his eyes and leans against the wall. "How was Marni- She- I don't-"
"Did something happen to Marni?" There is a scratch in the calm polish of Mag's voice.
"I don't know- yes- something happened!" Nathan says. "What time did she leave your place?"
"My place?" Mag says. "When?"
"This morning."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"When she stayed with you, last night." There is only silence. "Mag?"
"Nathan, I-" Mag sighs. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you. Marni hasn't been over since last week."
Nathan doesn't remember hanging up the phone, or even leaving the kitchen. The next thing he knows, he's standing in the doorway of his and Marni's bedroom. Marni's sitting up in bed with her arms wrapped around herself, looking at him with guilt and fear on her face, and maybe she's right to be afraid.