Chapter 3

The pain in my belly got worse overnight, and I didn't sleep at all.

So I went ahead and drew up the divorce papers.

The next morning I got up early to go to the hospital.

I walked into the living room and saw that Norma was there too.

She and Marcus were squeezed together at the entryway counter, eating breakfast.

Two servings of toast and fried eggs. Two sets of dishes.

Norma was wearing the shirt Marcus had on last night.

Marcus held a fry he'd half-eaten up to Norma's mouth.

The two of them shared it mouth to mouth, laughing and teasing.

As if they were the married couple.

Marcus said to Norma,

"Norma, how are you this gentle? I'm falling for you."

"I know. Living day in and day out with a textbook Southern brute like Leila must have been exhausting."

"Back then I really was young and didn't know any better."

When Norma and I first came north from Texas to chase a career in New York,

she'd loved to needle me in front of everyone, hot-tempered, princess syndrome.

At a group dinner she deliberately flipped up my short skirt, and I slapped her.

"See, I told you Leila was a Southern brute! Terrible temper!"

The whole private room burst out laughing.

Only Marcus said coldly, "What's so funny? Someone flips up your skirt and you're not allowed to be angry?"

The third line of his wedding vows:

"Leila has a bit of a temper, but that's what makes her most lovable."

But now.

He called it being young and stupid.

Norma's eyes shifted and landed on me.

She came over and took my arm as if nothing had happened.

"Awake, sleepyhead baby? Come try the breakfast I made you!"

Marcus came over too.

"Leila, even on a weekend you can't sleep this late. Learn from Norma. Be a little more diligent."

His tone was as flat as if nothing had happened last night.

Mama's girl, little princess, Southern brute, sleepyhead.

Norma had loved slapping labels like that on me since we were kids.

I'd always taken it as harmless childish teasing.

Now that I thought about it, it was purely her way of putting me down to lift herself up.

"My name is Leila Pruitt. Not sleepyhead."

Norma stuck out her tongue at Marcus.

Her voice was light, but loud enough for me to hear.

"Angry again! What a hothead!"

Marcus grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him.

"Leila. Last night was my fault. But there's no reason to take it out on Norma."

Even his apology was there to protect Norma.

I pulled free, and quickly noticed the boxed holiday pie set was gone from the entryway cabinet.

"Where are the holiday pies I bought?"

Marcus's tone was flat.

"I returned them at the store.

So you'll stop worrying about your mom all day and neglecting this home.

And stop throwing around childish talk about divorce."

Norma chimed in from the side,

"Leila, it's normal for a young couple to have conflicts. But you can't bring up divorce at the drop of a hat. It really hurts."

"Besides, you only worry about buying holiday pies for your mom, and you never worry about cooking Marcus a meal. Isn't that a little one-sided?"

My mom and I hadn't seen each other in a year.

Even just calling her, Marcus made difficult.

And buying holiday pies once made me one-sided, made me a mama's girl.

Marcus nodded along, agreeing completely.

"Don't go back for the Harvest Festival this year. Stay home and learn to cook from Norma. Get rid of that mama's-girl disease."

I ignored him and opened my phone to order my holiday pies again.

"Marcus, we're already divorced. Whether I go home or not is none of your business."

I used face payment, but a failed-payment notice popped up.

I opened my bank account and found the eight hundred thousand balance had been wiped to zero.

This account was a joint account between Marcus and me.

It held my dowry and all of my savings.

Other than me, only he could touch it.

I was so furious my teeth were shaking.

"Marcus, what gives you the right to transfer my money?"

Marcus lit a cigarette, looking like it was entirely his right.

"The right that you can't do what a wife is supposed to do. I paid it toward Norma's live-in housekeeper fee. Consider it your punishment."

Eight hundred thousand.

Five hundred thousand of it was my mom's whole life of hard work.

She was afraid I'd suffer marrying so far away, so she'd given every cent of her own savings to me as a dowry, keeping nothing.

Another three hundred thousand was the bride-price my mom had fought so hard to secure.

The fourth line of Marcus's wedding vows: this card is Leila's security for marrying far from home.

Now he'd handed all my security to another woman.

"Leila, baby, Marcus is only doing this for your own good—"

Before Norma could finish, my palm had already come down.

She pretended to be shoved and yanked my arm hard.

When I fell, my belly slammed into the floor.

A stabbing, piercing pain nearly made me black out.

Marcus's roar came.

"Leila Pruitt! You've gone too far!"

He scooped up Norma, whose knee had a layer of skin scraped off, and stormed out in a fury.

"With a temper like that, no one can stand you!"

I ran my hand across the floor.

And touched a warm, sticky smear of blood.