Chapter 4

4: 4

The room had two beds.

The nurse got the needle into my arm and told me to hold still.

The fluid slid down, drop by drop.

For some reason I suddenly wanted to tell someone.

To say I was leaving.

I opened my contacts and scrolled from the top down.

The front desk at Oswald's company, his assistant, his coworkers, his friends.

All the way to the bottom, forty-six people.

Forty-three of them were in there because of him.

I opened my feed too.

In all these years I had posted three times.

One for his promotion.

One for when he came back from a three-month business trip.

The last one was the soup I'd made, with the line, He says it's good.

Not one of those three had me in it.

So it turned out I didn't even have anywhere to say my last words.

My fingertip was still sliding down without thinking.

A notification popped up.

Oswald Harding and Davina Sanchez, heiress of the Sanchez family, announced their engagement today.

In the photo he stood half a step to Davina's side, his hand at her waist.

That sharp suit was the one I'd ironed last night.

The second button on the cuff had come loose, and I'd just sewn it back on for him.

I stared at that picture until my eyes ached.

By the time I came to, the call had already gone through.

To my surprise, there was none of the usual long wait. It connected on the first ring.

After a silence, it was Oswald who spoke first.

"You saw the news?"

I said nothing.

"It's just for now."

"I need the title to move up. You should understand that."

I still didn't speak.

He softened his voice, a patience I'd rarely heard in three years.

"There's nothing between me and her."

Maybe the silence angered him, because Oswald's voice went cold all at once.

"Rebecca, what exactly do you want?"

"I'm not that Oswald. If he wants to explain something to you, that's his business."

"You want to make a scene, wait for him to come out and make it."

The moment the words landed, my tears slid down without a sound.

"Oswald."

"Are you wearing the ring today?"

The other end went quiet.

I opened the video, and looked at that face, familiar and strange at once.

"Can you pass a message along to my Oswald for me?"

Oswald froze.

He pressed his lips together and couldn't get out a single word.

"All right."

I was smiling, and yet the tears kept falling.

"Oswald."

"I regret it."

"I regret choosing to believe you. I regret choosing to wait for you."

His face changed and he leaned close to the camera.

"Rebecca, what do you mean by that?"

A soft, coaxing woman's voice came from the other end.

"Oswald, it's our turn."

The image shook.

He looked at me, and I looked at him.

Two seconds later, he said that line to me again.

"Wait for me."

The screen went black and reflected my own face back at me.

Cheekbones jutting, eye sockets sunken.

I looked at that face and thought, Oswald is so clever.

When will he finally realize I ran out of time to wait for him long ago?

The medicine took hold, and I sank into sleep.

Early the next morning, a ringing woke me.

On the other end was Oswald's anxious voice.

"Are you at home?"

"No."

"Then go back now."

Before I could ask why, the voice on the other end changed.

"Rebecca."

It was Davina.

Her voice was soft, with a faint nasal note.

"Tonight is my and Oswald's engagement dinner, at The Grand Riverside Hotel."

"We're flying back this morning."

"But I left my keepsake in his study. Second drawer, a velvet box."

"Can you grab it for me and bring it over?"

"I need it before six."

I listened, thinking I must have heard wrong.

It took me a while to answer her.

"I can't get out."

"Why can't you get out?"

Her voice turned wounded in an instant.

"It's just one trip."

"Rebecca, this is the most important day of my and Oswald's whole lives."

"Just this once, just this one thing…"

She started crying.

"You won't even do this for me?"

The phone was snatched away.

"Rebecca."

His voice held a banked fire.

"What could you possibly have going on?"

"Three years, and other than trailing after me, what have you ever had going on?"

I didn't answer right away. I was turning his words over.

All these years, I'd learned how medications were classified, checked the weather forecast every single day.

I'd sat through four whole nights outside the emergency room.

Our honeymoon tickets had been rebooked seven times.

He was right.

I really didn't have anything else going on.

I held the phone, leaning back against the hospital bed, looking at the sky outside.

The sky was very bright.

When I spoke, my voice was calm.

"You're right, Oswald."

"From now on, you're free."