Chapter 8
CLAIRE
Half a month after we moved in, Ethan took Nora out that weekend. That rainy evening, he offered to bring her upstairs. Until then, we’d exchanged only a few words beside the car. I moved the shoes away from the door.
I opened the door, and she came rushing in with a paper bag in her hands.
“Don’t hold it upside down,” Ethan reminded her from behind.
“I know.”
She put the bag on the table, announced that she’d saved me a cinnamon roll, and ran to check whether the seeds by the window had sprouted. Ethan watched her with a smile, her backpack in his hand. He’d already stepped across the threshold, and he lifted his other hand as though to close the door.
I took the backpack.
“Thank you. Good night.”
His gaze moved from Nora to my face. His raised hand slowly fell, and he stepped back.
“She’s had dinner. The roll’s for you.”
“She just told me.”
I’d spoken too quickly and thanked him again. Rain darkened his jacket. Once, I would have taken it from him and made room for him beside my plate.
“Nora, say good night to Dad.”
Our daughter turned and waved, then asked me if the bit of green in the soil was a sprout. I told her to wait a moment while I closed the door.
After it shut, my hand stayed on the handle. The footsteps outside didn’t start right away. I stood still until I heard a soft chime by the elevator, then turned around.
Nora had already opened the paper bag. The cinnamon roll she’d saved for me was a little squashed, its icing stuck to the paper. I put it on a plate and told her to change her damp socks.
Before bed, Nora inspected my bag for my first day at the library. She reminded me about my cup and keys, then made me promise to check her sprout. I was humming when I left her room.
After nine, she was asleep. I sat down and had just cut into the cinnamon roll with my fork when a message from Mia appeared.
“There’s something you need to know. Don’t rush to reply.”
She sent a screenshot. It was from a group chat where Evelyn and several old friends arranged lunches. Ethan’s aunt was in it too. His aunt had forwarded the message to Mia, asking if she could try to persuade me.
Vivian had written, “I never imagined Ethan looking after an injured child would make Claire angry enough to want a divorce. Now, to calm her down, he’s even stopped all the everyday arrangements we used to have.”
Someone below had replied that children shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of adults’ anger.
I put down my fork. Vivian had heard me ask my husband to stay and seen her mother waiting with the car keys. Now I was someone who resented an injured child.
Mia sent another message. “I already told her that’s not what happened.”
I tried to type, but my thumb kept hitting the wrong keys. My hand shook so much even deleting was difficult. I put the phone on the table and poked the screen with one finger to reply that I’d seen it.
His aunt had once stayed with us for two nights.
Her stomach had been upset in the mornings, and I’d remembered she didn’t drink cold milk.
When she left, she’d hugged me and praised how thoughtful I was, saying Ethan was lucky to have married me.
I couldn’t understand how she could read this and then try to change my mind.
She hadn’t even asked where I’d gone that night or why I’d actually moved out of that house.
I opened our conversation and began typing.
I started with the promise before surgery, afraid a missing detail would let them dismiss me. By the time I reached the wheelchair, I had to stop and cover my eyes.
I typed another sentence. “Did you know I couldn’t even get dressed properly by myself that day?”
Looking at it, I suddenly felt ashamed. They sat chatting about how I was punishing a child, while I had to lay out just what a state I’d been in and let them judge whether that entitled me to want my husband beside me.
I gripped the phone to keep from throwing it and waking Nora. My shoulder ached. I went to the kitchen for water.
Mia called, and I answered.
“I want to send her a huge reply,” I said.
“If you want to say it, say it. I’m here.”
“Will they just think I’m making too much of something ordinary again?”
“Claire, let them see what happened first.”
I stared at the unwashed plate beside the sink. “I don’t even know when Sam’s swimming lessons are. She says I told Ethan to stop everything. Why does she make it sound like I had a list and told him, one by one, all the things he wasn’t allowed to help with?”
Mia swore quietly. Hearing it made me cry instead, and I hurried to wipe the tears with the back of my hand.
“And I still miss him,” I said. “When he brought Nora home just now, I shut him out, and it hurt me too. Even doing that was hard to bear. How dare she say I’m doing this to take my anger out on someone?”
“She saw you sitting there in that chair,” Mia said. “God, I’d like to ask her how she managed to leave that out.”
I lowered my head and pressed my wet hand against my forehead. “I wish I could stop missing him for five minutes. I’m so angry I even hate myself.”
Mia didn’t tell me to calm down. She waited for me to wipe my tears, then asked whether I’d eaten the cinnamon roll yet. I said I couldn’t, so she told me to drink my water first.
After we hung up, I went back to the table, read the long passage I’d typed, and deleted the parts that sounded like pleas for someone to believe I’d been in pain. I couldn’t make everyone stand beside that wheelchair that day. I could refuse to accept the story they were passing around.
I sent his aunt a reply. “This is untrue. Ethan promised to be with me the day I left the hospital. He knew Sam had his grandmother to look after him, and he still left. I’ve asked for a divorce because of the repeated broken promises in our marriage.
I haven’t prevented anyone from caring for Sam, and I didn’t ask Ethan to cancel Vivian’s arrangements. Please stop repeating this account.”
After sending it, my chest still felt painfully tight. I didn’t wait for her answer. I found Ethan’s conversation and sent him the original message.
“You know what happened that day. Now they’re saying I’m punishing a child.”
I turned the phone facedown, afraid his answer would be, “She was just upset.” I couldn’t listen to another explanation for Vivian tonight.
My return to work was confirmed for Monday, starting with short shifts I could manage. I went to choose my clothes, but a hanger caught on the shirt beside it.
“Enough already.”
I said it to the hanger, and began crying again. After a while, I freed the shirt and laid it out with my pants. I wanted to sit behind the reader services desk and listen properly to people. I wanted one morning to feel comfortable.
When Ethan called back, my phone vibrated in the living room. I went to answer and spoke before he could.
“I don’t want to cover for anyone anymore.”
“I saw it.”
“Before, when you canceled at the last minute, I told anyone who asked that you were busy. I thought it was between the two of us. There was no need to embarrass everyone. Now she sends this out, and they go to my sister and tell her to talk me out of taking my anger out on a child.”
My words came fast and jumbled. I reached the dining table, touched the greaseproof paper, and crumpled it into a ball without thinking.
“She was right there, Ethan. She heard.”
“I know.”
“Don’t tell me again how hard it is for her to raise a child on her own.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.” His voice sounded strained. “I went to her and told her I was stopping those arrangements. You had nothing to do with it.”
I held the paper ball. It was a long time before I spoke. “Moving out doesn’t mean nothing hurts me anymore.”
He went quiet. I waited, refusing to soften what I’d said.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said.
I put down the crumpled paper without telling him it was all right.
He asked where the original message had been forwarded from. I told him about the group of family and friends and what his aunt had said, then added that I’d already replied to her to deny Vivian’s account.
“I’m not going to beg them one by one to believe me. If your mother asks, you tell her yourself.”
“I will.”
I looked at the clothes waiting for Monday. I still wanted more than an apology over the phone. Ethan spoke first.
“I won’t let them blame you for this.”