“And you have some boxes?”
“I do. I’ve been packing and hiding them in the guest room closet.”
“Wow, sneaky. Is this how someone sends a hint the marriage isn’t working? Perhaps I should pay more attention to what your sister has in the random closets of our house,” he jokes.
“I think we both know my sister wouldn’t survive this world without you,” I mock Liz, aware she is listening. “What year was it that she last made her own coffee? I can’t recall.”
“You’re a shit, Lil!” Liz shouts into the phone.
“Maybe but what year was it again?”
“Anyway,” Liz snaps, her voice echoing in the poor connection. “We will meet you at the apartment.”
“Fine,” I say back but the call disconnects. She knows I’m right. Her husband is pretty amazing.
It was his idea to rent me the apartment for the mortgage payment amount. They could rent it for a thousand dollars more than what they’re charging me. From what I vaguely recall, it’s gorgeous. Granite countertops, craftsman-style cupboards, a stunning fireplace, a large deck overlooking the city, walls of windows, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. And the location is amazing. It’s right downtown and a ten-minute walk to work. Plus the building is safe. And being newly single for the first time in a decade I have just realized that is important to me.
When I arrive at the apartment, they’re standing outside the front doors. Both smiling far too wide for the reason we’re meeting up.
Their cheeks are red and eyes glistening with excitement. I take it as a bad sign. Anyone who loves you should not celebrate the end of your marriage, if it was a healthy one. But that has never been our experience. From day one, no one thought we should get married. We were young and I was still hung up on someone I shouldn’t have been. Someone I think about every now and then and wonder where he is. More so these days, though I forbid myself to actively look into it. That was a door I closed a long time ago.
“Hey,” Liz says excitedly as I open the door. “I meant to ask, how was he this morning?”
“Yes, how was old Rod after you two idiots drugged him with ketamine?” James doesn’t sound like he approves. Which is why we didn’t tell him we were doing it. Obviously, Liz has told him since.
“He’s fine. Slept like a log. Honestly, I think I did him a favor. He’s still sleeping peacefully.” I roll my eyes.
“Well, I’m glad he’ll be okay, but I think this whole dishonest business is a bad idea.” James lifts his hands in the air. “I know, you don’t want my opinion. Anyway, shall we bring some things up?” he asks, hurrying over to the car. We each grab a box from the back seat.
“Should you be carrying that?” I ask Liz.
“If I can carry my five-year-old, I can manage this small box.” She scoffs and walks away. James shakes his head.
“She shouldn’t be lifting anything, right?”
“No,” he says flatly, visibly defeated in trying to tell my sister anything. I know the feeling.
In the elevator, he manages to sneak it away from her with a kiss. She giggles and nudges him. Her eyes sparkle when she looks at him. I don’t know if anyone has ever looked at me like that.
My phone vibrates unexpectedly. I pull it out, seeing messages from Rod in his stupid app. “He’s awake,” I say, scared to check and see what it says.
Liz takes the phone.
I stare at the shiny metal doors of the pristine elevator. It’s a weird sensation of déjà vu, seeing myself in the reflection.
“He’s texting her. He’s awake and had the best sleep of his life. You made an excellent dinner and he cleaned a bottle of wine by himself. She responds with he needs to drink a bottle of wine to endure such dull conversations with—” Liz stops. “Anyway, it’s just them talking about nothing.”
Elaine’s cruel comment about needing wine to endure me makes me angry, but I push it away, knowing I am going to finish her with the last laugh.
The doors open and we step out as Liz leads us down the hall of the eighth floor to a door. She opens it and light floods the entryway as we walk into the bright and open space of the luxury apartment. It’s absolutely stunning.
“I still can’t believe you cloned his phone and his chatting app. You two should have a detective agency,” James mutters. He is obviously unaware of Liz’s business transaction with Zeke, the neighbor boy.
“It was pretty crazy,” I say, chuckling but the surreal experience I am having is a bit overwhelming.
This space will be mine.
Liz hurries to the bedroom as I place the box and my purse and keys down. She is beaming with that mischievous smile. “This is a little housewarming from us and Mom and Dad and Shawnee. We’ve been plotting it for a couple of weeks, since you decided to rent the apartment.” She opens the door to the bedroom.
“What?” I scowl and follow after her, gasping in shock and disbelief. Weirdly, the bedroom is already set up. “How?” I whisper and enter the room I’m certain I’ve seen before. And not just on my Pinterest page. Whitewashed wood furniture. Lacy, fluffy white bedding. A floor-length stand-up mirror with lights framing it. A gorgeous blue rug that matches the lamps perfectly.
“We didn’t think you would want to bring any bedroom furniture from your house. Considering,” Liz says, not finishing the sentence. I don’t need her to. The thought has crossed my mind for months on end. How many times exactly has Rod fucked Elaine in my bed?
As if in a haze, I walk forward, touching the soft bedding and clinging to it. A bubble of something terrible rises to the surface and bursts from my lips in a sob.
“It’s okay,” she says and wraps herself around me. It’s awkward with the baby bump, but she manages to hold me tightly as I lose it. My knees buckle and we sit on the bed, me sobbing into her shoulder as she strokes my head.
All the bravado, decisiveness, and strength are gone, suggesting it might have been something of an armor I wore.
It’s not how I imagined this year would go.
But like for the rest of the world it seems, 2020 has not been easy.
“You could leave today. Move in and forget this plan. Honestly, Brent would believe the accusations based on what you have now.”
“No.” I turn to Liz. “I’m finishing this. I’m ruining them!”
“Even if it ends up hurting you more?”
“There is no more. He can’t hurt me more. I’m humiliated and furious. But I can’t focus on it right now. I have to stay numb and finish it.” It’s an exhausting decision.
“You know I’m all for ruining them both but this is a dangerous game to play with yourself. I think you need a deadline. A date you pick out that you will not go beyond.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I agree. “I mean I was watching the news the other night and they were saying this Covid outbreak is over forty thousand cases in China. A friend of mine is an English teacher there, and she says they’re in full military lockdown. They don’t leave the house at all. And all I could think about was how if it comes to Nova Scotia, I’ll end up in lockdown with Rod. And that was more terrifying than anything else. Not the virus. Not being alone. Not the end of my marriage. But being with my husband in our house for an indeterminate amount of time.”