Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
Mei: I’m fighting feelings of extreme jealousy.
Marcus: About my mad crossword skills? My undefeated streak of taking out the garbage before it reaches the top of the can? Tell me. Suspense is killing me!
Mei: I’m jealous of Charlie.
Marcus: He’s pretty good at killing crickets, and you’re just not, so yeah, I get it.
Mei: I pay him big money to kill those crickets. I’m jealous that he loves you more than he loves me, and I’m the one who rescued him from homelessness and certain death. He’s a Marcus Snob now, and it’s hurtful and annoying because I used to be the only Marcus Snob.
Marcus: Oh. Yeah. That’s true. He does love me more than you, but I think it’s because we both have hair on our chests and you don’t. For which I’m very, very grateful.
Mei: You told me you aren’t a cat person. But it doesn’t look like that to me. All I wanted was a little softening toward him, but this? THIS?!
Marcus: He’s growing on me, okay? Let it happen. Let the bros be bros. If you listen closely, he’ll meow-whisper that he loves you. I’ve heard it, so think of it this way: now you have two men who can’t live without you. One with green eyes, one with blue. Take your pick.
Mei: He sleeps on your feet now.
Marcus: Confession: he’s helping me get over my stuffed animal phase. It’s embarrassing, and I didn’t want you to know, but it used to be a problem, so he’s helping a brother out. No more teddy bear.
Mei: He’s a total brat. You’re spoiling him.
Marcus: Turns out, I like cute, small things around. In fact, now that we have Charlie, I’ve solidly landed on wanting 4 kids. I hope they’re fuzzy like him.
Mei: 4??????? Are you volunteering to be the pregnant one??
C harlie paws at my feet as I dry a bowl and put it in the cupboard, then I scoop him up. He nuzzles into my chest, purring. It’s so nice to have him around when Marcus isn’t, and I’m just happy I got to keep him. It was a close one since Marcus has never had a pet, and I wasn’t even sure how much he liked animals. I wish I would have recorded Marcus’s face—eyes wide, completely still for the first time since I’ve known him, like Charlie was going to rip his throat out or something. But by Christmas afternoon, Marcus patted his lap for Charlie to come sit, and by that night, he was talking to Charlie in a new voice, kind of like a boy voice mixed with high-pitched old lady. That’s when I knew Charlie had a forever home.
I finish cleaning the dishes, my movements slow and sluggish like the rest of my body has been all day. I picture the bed, my pillows, warm blankets, and wonder if I should take a quick nap. I’ve been so tired lately. Yes, we stay up late, and some of my shifts have been earlier, but I’m full-body exhausted, like I’m coming down with the flu and want to sit and cry for no reason. It could be the long winter and the piles of snow in every direction, surrounding us like barriers. When we got to Indiana, I was so excited about seeing snow for the first time. I’m so over it all. Maybe I really do just need a nap.
I dry my hands and shuffle into the bedroom. The door to our closet is partially open, so I push it as I pass, but it won’t close. I investigate.
Marcus’s duffle is blocking the door. It must have fallen off the shelf. I bend to pick it up, and it’s heavy, even though we emptied our bags when we moved in. Marcus must have left a few things in his.
I place the duffle on the bed, unzip it, and peer inside at a few of Marcus’s books that lie abandoned, untouched. We did a lot of research of our own, and by the time we left Vegas, he didn’t need books anymore. I smile, picking up one of them and flipping through it. I stop on Marcus’s notes and…sketches. Diagrams. I turn the book, tilt my head, and laugh out loud as I take a picture of his notes with my phone and send it to him as a reminder of his pre-wedding assumptions.
Mei: Oh really…? Is that how it works…?
Setting my phone aside, I pick up another book and finger through it, stopping on a Q&A., like he was quizzing himself on what he read. I pick up the last one, scan the title, and am forever grateful he didn’t shy away from it, but before I can read anything written inside, a note slips from the pages and drops on my feet.
I snatch it up and unfold it, ready to see more Marcus diagrams, but it’s written on The Palazzo notepaper and the handwriting isn’t Marcus’s:
TO THE ESTEEMED MR. MILLER,
YOU AND MEI LI SHOULD HAVE FOUND A BETTER HIDING PLACE. I’LL COUNT TO 3…
My mouth goes dry, and my hands shake, the pads of my finger burning against the paper. I can feel bruises on my face, around my neck. My throat tightens, and Nick’s hands are around it again. My body throbs with the memory of his face, his dark eyes, empty except for anger and hatred. I force away the memories and remind myself, once again, that they’re of a past life. But this time, they’re not so easily shoved away because they’ve crept into my new life and twisted around my bright, happy, recent memories. Nick wrote this in Vegas—that means he found us. And if Marcus has this note, he knew. He packed us up. He left the motorcycle. He picked me up at work, and with no explanation, drove us to the bus station in a stolen car where we left our life behind to, once again, start another.
Marcus kept it all from me. He lied to me. For months.
Hot tears burn my cheeks, my chest tight as my lungs struggle to find air. But there isn’t enough, and when my stomach lurches, I scramble to my feet, dart to the bathroom, and throw up in the toilet.