Chapter 2

I forced down the ache in my chest and closed my mother's suitcase.

"Mom, we're leaving now."

She froze, then glanced at Max, careful and afraid.

"Can't we wait until morning? You're still not well…"

"I'm going with you. I'm not going to stay here and be treated like this."

At that, Max stood up, frowning.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To find a hotel. If there's no room for the two of us here, then we'll both leave."

I took my mother's arm and started toward the door.

Max cut in front of me in two quick strides and slammed his hand down on the suitcase.

"Vivien, don't go."

His voice was too urgent.

Urgent enough that my heart, stupidly, gave a little jump.

Ten years of marriage.

And I still couldn't help hoping he might not want to let me go.

After a moment of silence, his tone softened.

"You just got out of the hospital, you're not recovered. Don't throw a tantrum."

My eyes stung, and I almost asked him if he still cared about me.

But he looked over at Debbie and went on:

"Debbie has a bad stomach. She can't eat the food your mother makes."

"She's staying here for a while, so you need to stay and cook for her."

I stood there like he'd slapped me across the face.

I lifted my head, unable to believe it.

"You blocked me just so I'd wait on her?"

"Wait on her? What are you talking about?"

Max's brow creased.

"You cook anyway. It's just one more pair of chopsticks at the table."

"Debbie just landed a deal for the company, and she's not feeling well. What's the harm in looking after her for a few days?"

My stomach clenched hard.

Even my teeth were shaking.

"That deal? I drank until my stomach was bleeding to close it."

"What did she do?"

Max opened his mouth to argue, and found he had nothing.

He could only dig in. "Debbie signed it in the end."

"Without her to close it out, all your drinking beforehand would've meant nothing."

A contract I'd signed with my own health.

And in Max's mind, it counted for less than one careless line from Debbie.

My eyes went hot before I could stop them.

Beside him, Debbie suddenly tugged at his sleeve.

"Max, don't fight with Vivien over me."

"She just got out of the hospital. She should be resting."

"It's fine, I'll just skip meals, or live on instant ramen. That works."

Then she turned to my mother and smiled, all consideration.

"And you don't have to move out either, ma'am."

"Country folk might carry lice, but that's easy enough—just have someone come by a few times a day to disinfect. I'm really not that delicate."

My mother's face flushed scarlet in an instant.

She twisted the hem of her shirt, fumbling to say that she wasn't dirty.

But she looked down at her rain-soaked shoes and socks, and could only bow her head, helpless.

Max's eyes turned on me with even more disappointment.

"Look at Debbie. She's the one being wronged, and she's still speaking up for you."

"Now look at yourself. One small thing and you're dragging your mother off to run away from home."

"Vivien, when did you become so unreasonable?"

He was the one who'd abandoned my mother on the side of the road.

Yet somehow I was the unreasonable one.

In this house that was never mine, everything my mother and I did was wrong.

"Fine. Then let your reasonable Debbie stay and take care of you. My mother and I are moving out."

I took my mother's arm and moved to go around him.

Max's face darkened completely.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked me back, hard.

"Vivien, can you stop being so difficult!"

Pain twisted through my stomach.

My footing gave, and I nearly went down.

My mother, terrified, rushed over to shield me.

"Talk it out properly, please. Vivi's still sick."

She put herself between us, her voice pleading.

Then, almost pleading for his favor, she held out the insole to Max.

"Vivi told me specially to bring this to you."

"She's always thinking about you. She's just too shy to say so…"

My mother was trying to bow her head and make the fight go away.

But Max was still in the grip of his temper.

He didn't even glance at the insole. He shoved her away, irritated.

My mother stumbled back two steps and slammed the back of her head into the coffee table.

A dull crack.

The living room went silent all at once.

She lay on the floor, not moving.

Blood seeped slowly out through her graying hair.

The insole, embroidered with a blessing, had fallen beside her.

Little by little, it was staining red.