They walk with me in silence all the way to my car, and John kindly puts my box into the trunk. I shake hands with both of them, and they both stare at me until I’m out of the lot.
I’m determined that I will not shed a single tear, not where anyone can see me at least.
But then I get home and I walk into my house to find my clothes and belongings in boxes in the living room. They have been labeled and sorted. I walk into my bedroom and find a strange woman packing my things.
“Excuse me? Who are you?” I ask her.
“I’m with the moving company,” she tells me. She hands me a requisition form, which has been signed by Charles. It says they are to remove all personal clothing and accessories of mine from the home, package them neatly, and deliver them to my grandmother’s address.
I pick up my phone to call Charles, but it rolls to voicemail.
Suddenly, the front door opens and Charles rushes in. “How could you!” he shouts.
“How could I what?” I ask.
“How could you tell her that?” He runs a hand through his hair, which makes it stand on end.
Was he referring to what I said to Sandra? “I don’t know what you mean. Can you be more specific?”
“She’s not like you, Abs,” he says, and I cringe when he shortens my name. “She’s…delicate.”
“Delicate?” I cross my arms in front of me, mainly so I can avoid grabbing his goddamn neck and choking the life out of him.
“She’s not strong like you are. She’s fragile.” He runs a hand through his hair again. “I’d hoped to save you the trouble of packing,” he explains, as he motions toward the woman who is still boxing up my belongings, pretending like I’m not here.
“Why am I packing, exactly?” I ask him.
“I’m not leaving, Abs,” he explains. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” He looks around our house. “And Sandra lives with a roommate. She doesn’t have enough space. We’ll need this place for the baby.”
My eyebrows are probably up in my hairline by now. “You think you’re moving her into my house?” I point toward the floor beneath my feet like he might be confused about which house we’re talking about.
“I assumed you could move in with your gran,” he counters.
“I can move in with Gran,” I reply with no emotion in my voice whatsoever. I feel like the weight of the world is suddenly on my shoulders.
“Oh, good,” he says with a tenuous smile. “Glad we got that settled.”
“Settled,” I repeat with a nod.
He waves a hand through the air. “She’ll forgive me for sleeping with you. Probably take a day or two.” It’s obvious he’s still working this out in his head.
“She’ll forgive you,” I repeat. I can’t even think. “For sleeping with me.” She’ll forgive him for sleeping with his wife. That makes a lot of sense.
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She’s great. Very forgiving.”
Not like me. I tend to hold a grudge.
“So do you want me to have your boxes delivered to your grandmother’s house?” he asks. He scrubs the end of his nose with a finger.
I tilt my head. “Yeah, Gran’s house will be fine.”
He nods. “I can take care of that.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. “I’m sorry, Abs,” he says.
I jerk my hand free. “My name is Abigail, and if you’d ever listened to me the million times I’ve told you that, you would have stopped calling me Abs by now.”
He takes a step away.
I walk into the bedroom and get my keepsake box from where it rests on the end of the dresser. My grandfather made it and gave it to me when I was five. It has my name engraved in the top. He’d engraved it by hand. I prop it under my arm and walk toward the front door.
“Goodbye, Abs,” Charles says softly.
I don’t even correct him as I walk out the door. Instead, I slam it so hard that the walls rattle and the windows shake. Then I walk out to my car, get in, and gently set the keepsake box next to me on the seat.
I call Gran. “Hey, Gran.”
“Abigail,” she replies. I can hear the smile in her voice, the one she always gives me.
“Do you think it would be okay if I went up to Lake Fisher for a