Chapter 5
Rain
It is Monday, and the early evening light shadows the hallway as I push open the front door, the kids shifting their school bags at my side. Cody stands in the foyer, balancing precariously on his crutches.
“Daddy!” they squeal in unison. They drop their backpacks to the floor, launching themselves forward to wrap around his legs.
He steadies his balance, bending his head to press a quick kiss into their hair. The kids squeal again, their energy bursting through the small space before they turn and scramble right back up the stairs, their footsteps a loud, chaotic rhythm bouncing off the walls.
I map a path to walk right past him into the empty foyer, the memory of his weekend confession repeating behind my eyes like a loud, relentless loop.
Before I can clear the threshold, his free hand reaches out.
His fingers wrap around my waist, pulling me inward until the fabric of my blouse nearly brushes the front of his shirt.
He sways slightly, struggling to hold his weight on one good foot.
Caught off guard, I freeze. My handbag hangs like a dead weight from my other hand as I pull back, creating a sliver of space between us.
“Cody,” I say. I search for a reason to break the contact, but my mind goes blank. "What about your leg? You shouldn't be standing."
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He disregards the question, his eyes scanning my face, clearly aware that I am trying to shift the ground beneath us.
My gaze drops to his lips for a fraction of a second.
He keeps his eyes locked onto mine, refusing to let me look away.
The air between us grows thick, holding us in a strange, silent suspension.
I force myself to break the spell. I place my palm against his chest and softly push him away, stepping back into the cooler air of the hallway.
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice flat and even. “You love her, and I get it. So... take care of your leg, I guess.”
I turn on my heel and hurry toward the stairs, leaving him standing by the door.
Once inside the master bedroom, a long sigh escapes my lips. I toss my briefcase onto the armchair, strip out of my professional clothes, and change into a pair of soft lounge pants and a faded tee. I gather my hair, twisting it into a messy bundle, and snap a plastic clasp to hold it off my neck.
Refusing to dwell on the tension downstairs, I head straight for the kitchen to prepare dinner for the family.
“There is food in the fridge. I had a chef come around,” his voice carries from the living room couch.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs. I walk over to the sofa, my brow furrowing as I look down at him. He sits with his laptop balanced on his thighs, his fingers typing out a rapid sequence of commands.
“Oh. Why?”
He lifts his eyes from the screen, meeting my gaze square on. “I cannot have the amount of money I have and watch my wife stress herself when I can hire someone to take the weight off her shoulders.”
I lick my dry lips, the unexpected declaration sending a confusing ripple through my thoughts. I give a tight nod. “But... we do things by a timetable. The kids have a routine.”
“I spoke with the kids, and they told me everything,” he interjects, his tone reasonable and calm. “I made sure the timetable was laid out for the kitchen.”
I nod again, my fingers twisting the fabric at my hip. “Okay. Thank you, I guess.”
I turn toward the stairs to call the children down for dinner, but his voice stops me.
“Rain.”
“Yes, Cody?”
“Before the kids come down... can I have a word with you?”
I hesitate, then cross the rug and sink onto the cushion beside him, leaving a careful distance between our shoulders. “Yes, go ahead.”
“So, I was thinking,” he begins, closing his laptop slightly. “What if we can act like a husband and wife for a while?”
I stare at him, utter confusion blanking my mind. “Why?”
“Samuel and I spoke at length yesterday,” he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
I wait for the rest, nodding slowly. “Okay. Is there something else?”
“Apparently,” Cody sighs, his jaw tightening, “he says we don’t act like Doris’s parents.”
I blink, the name unfamiliar. “Who in the name of God is Doris?”
He lets out a dry, frustrated breath. “Doris is the little girl he likes at school.”
A flash of annoyance tightens my chest. Samuel told him that? My six-year-old son confided his school crush to a father who is barely home, while I received absolutely nothing. I swallow the irritation. “Go ahead.”
“So apparently...” Cody runs a hand through his dark hair, pulling at the strands. “I thought about it, and it's weird. Don’t you think so?”
I shake my head at how oblivious he is to the reality of the past six years. “I mean, I thought our entire setup was weird from the get-go.”
He looks at me, a question in his eyes.
“But please, go ahead,” I say, leaning back. “It sounds like you are headed somewhere with this.”
He nods, his expression settling into something more determined. “Let’s just be more comfortable around each other. You know... do what married couples do.”
I tilt my head to the side, studying the sharp line of his profile. I lift my hands, drawing two distinct quotes in the empty space between us. “You know this means you will be... unloyal to your first love.”
He gives a slow nod. “I know. But that was a long time ago. We haven’t spoken in a while.”
For a single, fleeting second, a wave of relief washes through me. The weight in my lungs eases. Then, the brutal honesty of his weekend confession rushes back, souring the moment.
“But you said you loved her,” I remind him, my voice dropping to a whisper.
He looks past me, a wistful, distant smile touching his lips as he stares at the empty wall. “Yeah. I do.”
The relief vanishes, replaced by a cold, familiar ache. “Do you think you guys will eventually get together?”
My heart hangs in the balance, suspended in the dark space between us, waiting for his answer to drop. Before he can form a syllable, the loud pitter-patter of bare feet echoes from the stairwell. Rose bounces into the room.
“Daddy!” she yells, throwing herself onto the rug.
I force a quick laugh, using the sound to shield the sudden influx of I feel. “When you are back, they forget I even exist.”
Cody lets out a low chuckle, but his eyes look vacant, his mind clearly drifting somewhere far away from this living room.
I give a sharp nod, standing up from the couch. “Uh, I will go up. Please handle the food if you can.” My voice drags slightly as my eyes land on his elevated ankle.
He brushes the concern away with a wave of his hand. “I can handle that. And anything I can’t manage, the kids will help with.”
I nod and turn toward the stairs.
The moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind me, the strength drains from my legs. I sink onto the edge of the mattress, pulling my phone from my pocket, and dial my mother’s number.
“Finally, she remembers I exist,” her warm, familiar voice fills the line.
“Mama.”
“Yes, darling. You remember I exist now, don’t you?”
“No, Ma,” I say, a breathless chuckle escaping me. “I spoke to you the day before yesterday.”
“Yes, I know you did, Rain,” she says, the smile evident in her tone. “But we made a promise to talk every day. I don’t do the same disappearing act your father does.”
Her light laughter provides a brief cushion for the tightness in my chest.
“Now tell me, baby,” she transitions, her voice dropping into a protective, maternal register. “What has got your mind so clouded?”
The dam breaks. A sudden sob tears from my throat, and hot tears instantly flood my eyes, spilling over my eyelashes before I can blink them back.
“I see it is Cody, then,” she murmurs.
I give a heavy nod, forgetting for a second that she cannot see me through the phone.
“What did he do this time around?”
“He still loves her, Mom,” I sob into the empty room. I clamp my palm tightly over my mouth, trying to stifle the ragged breaths that cause my shoulders to shake.
“How did you find that out?”
“He told me.”
“What else, darling?”
“He said...” My voice trembles so hard the words barely form. “He said that he told her when we were going to be intimate. Because he didn’t want to be disloyal to the person he was in love with.”
“Goodness!” my mother’s voice sharpens into a gasp. “Why would he do such a thing? I thought he was a reasonable fellow.”
“He says we should act like we are a married couple now,” I continue, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
“And then, when I asked him about the disloyal thing to that woman...” I pause, the realization striking me.
Hearing the word woman come from my own lips makes me realize I don't even know the name of the shadow haunting my house. “What can I do, Mom?”
“Baby... I am so sorry for pushing you onto someone who was already taken,” she says, the guilt heavy in her voice.
“It’s okay, Ma. I agreed to it, remember?” I stare down at the floorboards, my vision blurred by a fresh wave of moisture. “I liked him a bit. I guess I thought I could make him fall in love with me. But he isn’t even around enough for that to happen.”
My mother goes silent. The line holds nothing but our synchronized breathing. I know this specific silence; it means her mind is working through a problem, turning a strategy over in her head.
“What if you use this chance to make him fall in love with you?” she pitches.
I blink. “What?”
“Yes, dear,” she says, her tone gaining momentum. “I mean, do what you wanted to do from the very beginning. Make him forget her.”
“Then... what if it becomes weird?”
“Then you go back to how things were before,” she answers easily. “And eventually, you get a divorce.”
Her audacity startles a laugh out of me. “Sure, Ma.”
“I am sorry, sweetie,” she repeats softly.
We stay on the line for a long time, her voice a steady anchor in the dark. As the conversation stretches on, the seed she planted begins to take root in the back of my mind.
Act like a real wife.
The prospect of playing the part doesn't seem so terrible after all.