Chapter 1

Five years together, and Marvin Henson's phone had kept me on Do Not Disturb for three years straight.

His reason: "Your updates are too trivial, and the buzzing keeps interrupting my work."

So I learned to swallow it, and put everything I couldn't say into my memo app.

Until today, when Marvin decided the Alexa sitting idle at home was a waste and told me to set it up again.

The moment it connected to the app, it read out last Friday's message log on its own.

"Received. Anita has shared a location and is requesting a voice call."

"Received. Anita's message has been saved to your to-do list."

His stepsister's settings were priority alerts. Even with music playing, they'd cut straight through.

Last Friday was also the day I rear-ended someone out on the highway.

I called Marvin over and over, sent my location, begged for help, and no one ever answered.

Marvin saw the blank look on my face and shrugged it off.

"She's only nineteen. She's out there on her own and I worry about her. I'm afraid something might happen to her."

So it turned out he wasn't incapable of worrying. He just felt other people were more worth being on call for than I was.

I looked at him, and the last thin bit of hurt I'd been holding onto just evaporated.

...

"It's fine," I said quietly. "I won't bother you again."

Marvin swiped a finger across his phone screen.

He looked up at me and smiled.

"There you go. Be mature about it."

He reached out and patted my head. His palm was warm and dry.

"Those messages you used to send, you'd split one thing into ten texts. It really did get noisy."

He said it lightly.

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and got up, heading for the study.

"Anita's calling. I'll go take it."

The study door closed.

I sat on the couch, looking at his tablet on the coffee table.

The screen was still lit, unlocked.

I reached over to close it for him, and my eyes swept across the screen.

Endless bubble tea delivery orders, every one of them addressed to Anita.

The note field read: Half sugar, no ice, extra pearls. I remember you like it that way.

I stared at that line, my fingers going a little stiff.

Two winters ago, I'd mentioned offhand that I wanted a bubble tea.

Starting the next day, he ordered it for a solid month.

The note field had read: Warm, full sugar, extra coconut jelly. Her stomach's sensitive, she can't drink anything cold.

For that whole month, I got a warm bubble tea every night.

Then we fought, broke up, got back together, and he never ordered it again.

So it turned out he hadn't forgotten.

He'd just given that remembering to someone else.

I closed the tablet and set it back on the coffee table.

The study door opened and Marvin came out to get it.

He saw me sitting on the couch, and his eyes flicked to the tablet on the table.

"Just ordered it for her while I was at it. The kid loves her bubble tea."

He said it casually, then pulled out his phone and transferred me some money.

"That rear-end last week cost a lot to fix. Take this."

I opened the transfer.

Four hundred dollars.

Those endless delivery orders alone came to more than that.

"Thanks," I said.

He nodded and took the tablet back to the study.

I stood up and walked to the entryway, wanting to step out for some air.

My fingers had barely touched the handle when the smart lock chimed a prompt.

"Fingerprint deleted."

I froze for a second.

Marvin poked his head out of the study.

"Oh, Anita came by a few days ago to feed the cat. When she was adding a fingerprint she accidentally hit reset."

"Just re-enter your right thumb."

I looked at the lock's screen.

Three years ago, when he installed this lock, he'd held my hand against it and said with a smile,

"Your fingerprint is the highest access in this house."

Back then I'd just moved in, my boxes still stacked by the door, unopened.

He'd pulled me over to the lock and pressed my fingers down one by one.

"This way, when you come home, the door will know you."

I pressed down my right thumb.

The lock announced, "Fingerprint slots full. Owner: Anita."

I went still for a moment.

Ten fingerprint slots, all full.

Every one of them Anita Fox's.

The living room was quiet for two seconds.

Marvin's expression tightened, then he sighed.

"She was just messing around, recorded all ten fingers. Don't read into it."

I said nothing. Following the prompt, I overwrote one of the fingerprints and entered my right thumb.

The door shut behind me, and from inside came Marvin's lowered voice.

"Anita, what's wrong? Don't cry..."

"Yeah, I know it's been hard for you."

I took out my phone and opened the memo app.

I'd used this memo for three years. It was full of all the things I never sent.

The most recent entry was written the day of last Friday's accident:

"Rear-ended on the highway, airbags went off, my hands are shaking, he didn't pick up."

Scrolling up, there was date after date, packed close together.

Every line was something I'd swallowed.

On the last line, I typed out the lease-cancellation details.

Then I opened the listing app, filled in the address and the lease term, and hit "Post Listing."

The screen went dark. I stood in the hallway and heard him laugh again inside the study.

"Sure, I'll take you to that place next time so you can try it."

The motion light in the hallway went out. I didn't move.

In the dark, I stood there for a long time.