14. Marnie
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marnie
The days blur together in a mix of sleep, pain, and boredom. Cora calls and texts, but doesn’t show up until the following Sunday, three days before Ashe’s return, with more gifts I don’t need—face masks and bath bombs this time. She doesn’t stay long but says something that lingers and haunts me like a ruthless ghost. I expect that was her intention.
“He wants to marry you, Marnie. But if you love him, should you let him?”
I spend the days before Ashe’s return yo-yo-ing between the unfairness of her remark and the truth in it.
It’s a dreary Wednesday, a week and a half after the accident.
Ashe should be here any minute.
Yesterday, I was excited about his return. I decided to forget Cora and her not-so-subtle push to let Ashe go. I am the same person I was before the accident, the same woman he fell in love with, who loves him and wants to spend my life with him.
So what if we can’t have biological children? That was never guaranteed, anyway. We didn’t start dating and fall in love based on breeding expectations. We just liked each other. Loved each other. Wanted to be together. That still holds true.
This isn’t the Dark Ages when having babies decided a woman’s life success. Nor is it an age when suitable matches are made based on marginalized nonsense like wealth, class, ethnicity, or what someone brings to the marriage.
This is Seagrove, North Carolina, 2025. Not 15 th century England.
Besides that, my aspirations have never been child-centered. Why should they be? If I had a Marnie Manual with all my best ideas for my life—things I want—it’d be filled with career milestones and what would set me apart as a store manager, Sunny’s Expansion Coordinator, and perhaps even Cora’s job, someday. It’d be a scrapbook of travel destinations—I want to see real castles, go on a murder mystery cruise, and visit every national park. That notebook would feature all the adorable cats I could rescue, organizations I’d love to support and give time to, owning a beautiful house with a catio, investments I’d make, and properties I’d buy. Children are wonderful, but do they have to be everything ?
That this one thing has been taken away from us doesn’t mean there’s no longer an us . It shouldn’t, anyway.
I am still Marnie Strange. Independent, smart, and strong. Good person. Friend to all. Queen of Customer Service and Unique Product Displays. Ashe’s fiancée, his love. His best friend, lover, playmate, and teammate. I’m still worthy.
Aren’t I?
My thoughts go back and forth mercilessly as I slowly tidy the place. Though my mobility has improved over the last week, the soreness still keeps me at a tiresome pace. Whenever I push my limits, my body revolts with sharp pains and lingering aches. It’s a test of patience, surely. But I keep thinking of Grady’s advice. It takes as long as it takes.
Regardless, my excitement to see Ashe builds, battling back my nerves. I’ve missed him. The fun of him. The way he always makes me laugh. How he rolls his eyes over his mom’s antics. We’ll laugh over Cora’s words—one day.
Seeing him will put everything back in its proper place.
Only it’s not him who shows up. It’s Cora, just like that morning at the hospital. She pushes inside my place, mentioning something about the dreadful weather. I don’t bother with pleasantries.
“Where’s Ashe?”
“He’s not coming, Marnie.” Her tone is soft but direct. She bypasses me and drags an upright chair from the kitchen table into the living room—her usual seat. “Best sit down. I don’t want you to hurt yourself when you’ve been doing so well.”
The anxious knot in my stomach spreads throughout my entire body. I wobble to the couch, easing Sunkist aside for space. I sit as uprightly as possible, bracing myself for what I know is coming—what I should’ve seen coming. It doesn’t matter what I want with Ashe. It’s no wonder he left. He knew he wasn’t coming home to me.
Voices circle through my mind, crystallizing my fears.
Mom: Men can’t be trusted. They never do what they say they’ll do.
Cora: You will feel this loss every day for the rest of your life.
I swallow hard, waiting.
“Ashe has had a change of heart.” Her face fixes on fake sympathy—a look I’ve seen a thousand times but never before directed at me. “He no longer wants to get married.”
It sounds so innocent and normal like one might change clothes or cars.
“Ashe said that?”
She leans forward. “I know that’s difficult to hear, but you must’ve felt it, too. It’d be such a sacrifice for him now.”
Marrying me would be a sacrifice.
“He was having second thoughts before the accident,” she tacks on as if that makes it better. “He loves his independence. He’s about to take on the new store. He loves you despite this, but you want different things now.”
“We want to be together,” I manage, nearly tripping over her use of the word despite . “That shouldn’t have changed just because… one thing did.”
She scoffs slightly. “That’s not how the world works, and you know it.”
Life isn’t fair, sweetie, and it ain’t changing the rules for you. I want Mom here, now, with Cora so I can demand them both to explain why life seems fair to everyone else but me.
“Why isn’t he here to do this himself?” I ask bluntly.
“Men are cowards, Marnie. He didn’t want to hurt you.”
But he is hurting me. Suddenly desperate for the bathroom, I rise weakly from my chair. My no frowns, no fears, no tears policy slips as my eyes water and the horror of my situation compounds. I excuse myself and speed-hobble down the hall, not getting there fast enough. It takes as long as it takes.
Inside the bathroom, I turn on the cold water, splashing my face with it. Three days ago, Ashe texted all day with a series of can’t-waits.
Can’t wait to see you.
Hold you.
Kiss you.
Tell you about my trip.
Talk about a new wedding.
How could he change his mind so fast, like I’m a broken fever or a stomach virus that’s finally been purged? What happened to him loving me forever and wanting me always ? This doesn’t sound like Ashe. In our early days, he fought for us with Cora. She thought he should focus on the store, not the staff. She had other ideas for him than someone like me.
Then, I wonder if this is her, not him, and a tiny ray of hope emerges.
I slip my phone out of my pocket, staring at his last messages. I text him.
Cora’s here. She says you want to break up. Is this true?
The ellipsis appears. Disappears. And finally appears again.
Sorry.
Everything inside me crumbles and turns to dust. I’m no longer Marnie Strange. I’m her dried bones, withering and lifeless. He’s drained all the love and cheer right out of me. It’s a small mercy that he responded at all. At least, he didn’t leave me wondering by ghosting me altogether.
I return to Cora, head held high and eyes dry. They need me to be the usual Marnie—strong, steady, and forgiving. And though Grady’s probably right about my tendency to be too nice, it’s the only way I’ll get through this. I need that Marnie, too.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“Yes, sorry. The medications don’t play nice with my stomach.”
“You poor thing,” she coos, her voice like sandpaper.
I pull the engagement ring off my finger and set it on the table between us. She takes it, dropping it carelessly into her Louis Vuitton.
“Was there anything else?” I ask, even-toned.
Her fake sympathy flashes in a weak smile. “Under the circumstances, we think it’s best that you don’t return to Sunny’s.”
The air in my lungs solidifies into something hard and lifeless as cold reality strangles me. I barely get words out, but they come clipped and bitter. “I no longer meet expectations. ”
I’ve heard her say that repeatedly to unsatisfactory employees, always with the same coldness. Cora was never one for second chances and almost enjoyed what she called “getting rid of dead weight.”
She bypasses my accusation by tugging an envelope out of her bag and sliding it onto the coffee table.
“What’s this?” I ask, not touching it.
“Severance,” she answers dryly.
My brain skips to what that means, fumbling a bit. As the store’s human resources department, I know severance isn’t in our vocabulary. People are let go, move on, or get fired, of course, but we’ve never offered anything to facilitate their exit. It’s a grocery store, not a Fortune 500 company.
“You’re firing me?” I choke out, trying my best to hide my shock behind my stoic barriers.
“We’re overdue for restructuring with the new store about to open. You understand. We’re dissolving your position with a generous thank you for your time with us.”
She nods to the envelope again, practically ordering me to look inside. I don’t.
“So, you’re firing me but calling it a layoff for the optics,” I summarize, swallowing my baseball-sized anger, nearly choking.
Her snide grin makes my skin crawl.
“I won’t accept it.”
“Oh, yes, you will.” She leans forward with a chilling smile. “You’ll cash that check and tell anyone who asks that, as much as it breaks your heart to leave Sunny’s, you’re ready for a new start, preferably in a new town.”
“So, now I’m moving, too?”
She shrugs. “I can’t make you, of course, but there’s enough money for such a change, and I highly recommend it.”
“I’m not moving. This is my home.”
Her shoulders droop in a sigh. “I thought you might say something like that. You’re still family, and we want to make this easy on you.”
I cringe at the word. Family. She reaches into her bag again and sets a business card on the table.
“Wes’s brother, Liam, is looking for an office manager.”
“At the funeral home?” I gape.
“He’s already agreed to take you on. It’s the best you’ll get around here, especially without a degree.”
Take me on? Like a project? Like an orphan?
“I realize that nothing’s gone as planned, Marnie. I regret that. I also know that you could sully the Sullivan name around here with stories about unfairness regarding your… condition as a result of the accident if you wanted?—”
“My condition?” I sputter, scoffing. “My only condition is this blatant discrimination. You can’t do this. I love Sunny’s.”
“I’m doing you a favor, Marnie. The accident wasn’t Ashe’s fault. Or mine. But it’s unfair to all of us to be constantly reminded of what could have been. Don’t you think?”
My shoulders slump. It’s a point I cannot argue. Even so, Ashe gets to go on with his perfect life while Cora writes the narrative for mine. This is what loving her son cost me?
“I’m being generous here.” She pushes the envelope and the business card to the very edge of the table.
Many things happen at once: my hackles rising, my hands fisting under my thighs, her belittlement stinging, and the full reality of my situation setting in. My anger kickstarts my brain into a tornado frenzy, whipped up by her condescension and kept quiet only by my keen survivalist instincts.
I have been reduced to whatever’s in that envelope.
Amid the intense stare-down between us, I tally up The Things Marnie Lost in the Accident.
A car.
A wedding.
A uterus.
Ashe.
My career at Sunny’s.
My work family.
My almost-family.
My love and respect for the Sullivans.
But I haven’t lost me .
If anything, my identity solidifies through this series of unfair events. In my anger, a brilliant vision of the future forms. Me, taking my non-degreed self somewhere else, becoming a tremendous success, and making them regret this day. Somehow.
It’s a pipe dream, a fantasy. But it’s what I need to believe in now.
I decide this is my defining moment. Not the accident. Not becoming barren. Not losing Ashe. Not getting fired. But this. This beautiful clarity and confidence she’s inspired. Me taking back control of my life rather than being someone else’s puppet or plaything or breeder .
They won’t see me break. I don’t break. I bend. I have built my life from nothing. I’ll rebuild it even stronger. They have not seen the last of me.
A survivalist never refuses a check. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me open it. No matter how much it is, it’s not enough.
Taking the check means agreeing to keep my silence—I know that, too.
“I have one condition,” I say. “Promise me, no lawsuits against Grady.”
She guffaws. “Why not? Do you realize how much he’s cost us? What he’s cost you ? He’s ruined your life.”
“No, he saved me from a weak husband and a fake family that could never love me the way I deserve—unconditionally,” I bite back. “I owe him. Promise me no lawsuits against Grady Tripp, or I’ll take this severance to the nearest lawyer as a retainer and file one against you, your family, and Sunny’s for wrongful termination and discrimination.”
Her eyes narrow, and her lips press together, sizing me up as if wondering if I could pull off such an enterprise. I almost hope she challenges me so I can prove it to her.
Her hands rise submissively. “Fine. From that perspective, I suppose he saved Ashe, too—half his assets. You two never would’ve lasted.”
“It’s time for you to leave.” I hobble to the door and hold it open for her. Smiling, always smiling. Steaming on the inside, though. I slam and lock the door behind her.
Deep breaths calm me as I mourn my decade-long career coming to such an unexpected end. I have lived and breathed Sunny’s for so long that I never would’ve imagined this outcome, that it could all be destroyed to rubble over my personal trauma. My body and what it can and can’t do. My love and worth shattered over this. An accident. An absence. A future never guaranteed anyway.
But here I am. Once again. Family gone. Abandoned.