Chapter 4

The day Hester finished her postpartum confinement, I went back to the apartment.

My parents had paid the down payment on this place, and I was the one making the mortgage payments, but the deed was in Hester's name.

I hadn't thought much about it when we got married. Looking back now, maybe I'd already lost right there.

I opened the door, and the smell of braised ribs drifted through the place.

My mother-in-law was busy in the kitchen. She heard the door and leaned out to look.

The second she saw it was me, her face fell, and she ducked back in.

The living room was empty.

I walked to the door of the master bedroom. It stood ajar.

Duane was sitting on the bed, the big bed Hester and I bought when we married, with our wedding photo still on the nightstand.

He leaned back against the headboard, one leg propped on the edge of the mattress,

a phone in his hand, scrolling through something.

He heard the door and looked up at me.

"You're back?" His tone was casual, like he was the one who owned the place.

I stood in the doorway and didn't go in. "Where's Hester?"

"In the shower." He set the phone down, folded his hands behind his head, glanced around the room, and let his eyes settle on my face.

"You've had it rough these past few days. The baby cries at night, Hessie can't manage on her own, so I moved in. Easier to help out."

I laughed. "You. Living in my master bedroom?"

He looked at me, his eyes calm, like he was waiting for me to blow up.

I walked to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open.

My clothes were folded on the left, Hester's on the right.

In the middle hung a few gray shirts, pressed flat and neat. Duane's.

I took my clothes out one by one, folded them, and packed them into the suitcase.

Hester came out of the bathroom just as I was zipping it shut.

She had on a pale yellow set of loungewear, her hair still dripping, a towel in her hand.

When she saw me she froze for a second, then glanced at Duane sitting on the bed.

"Percy, you—"

"I came back to get some things."

She said, "Oh," and sat down at the vanity to dry her hair.

"Duane's staying here a few days. The baby's so little, he cries all night, and I really can't keep up."

"He's got more experience. With him helping, it's easier on me."

"So he's in the master bedroom."

"The guest room isn't made up, and the baby sleeps in here at night anyway, so it's easier for him to help."

She looked at me in the mirror. "Don't read into it."

I zipped the suitcase shut and stood up. "Hester."

She turned her head.

"Do you remember what you said to me on our wedding day?"

She frowned, not expecting me to ask that out of nowhere. "What did I say?"

"You said, from now on this home belongs to the two of us."

Something shifted in Hester's face.

For less than a second. Then it settled back into that calm that made me hate her and ache at the same time.

As I carried the suitcase out of the bedroom, my mother-in-law came out of the kitchen with a plate of braised ribs in her hands.

She saw the suitcase and her mouth twitched. "Leaving? You just settle in out there, and remember to send money home on time."

I didn't answer her.

At the door, I opened the shoe cabinet and found my shoes.

I put them on, took an envelope out of my pocket, and set it on the coffee table.

The divorce papers. Two copies.

I straightened up and looked at the apartment one last time.

The smell of ribs drifted out of the kitchen, my mother-in-law was setting out bowls and chopsticks in the living room,

and from the master bedroom came Duane's voice, low and soft, saying something to the baby.

I carried the suitcase into the elevator, pressed the ground floor, and it began its slow descent.

My phone buzzed. A message from Hester. "What's this you left on the coffee table?"

I replied, "Open it. Remember to sign."