Chapter 4
Over the weekend, James and I cleaned up the guest room together.
We didn't say a single word to each other the whole time.
He hauled the boxes, I handled the random stuff. We worked together like a couple of professional movers, efficient, but ice-cold.
In less than half a day, the guest room looked like a real bedroom again.
Fresh sheets, fluffy pillows, and I even just tossed a little vase of baby's breath on the windowsill.
But even with the room all neat and tidy, I just couldn't feel happy about it.
Because this room was for my parents, and James still had no intention of coming back to our bedroom.
That night, James cooked up dishes in the kitchen, while I just sat at the table, waiting.
He brought everything over, set the table, and took a seat across from me.
We sat there, facing each other, with all the food between us, neither of us touching our forks.
"It's already pretty salty, maybe use less soy sauce next time," I said, just to have something to say.
"Okay," he said.
And that was it.
Dinner was so quiet, it felt like we were in a silent movie.
After dinner, he went to wash the dishes. I leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching his back, and it hit me: he'd lost weight.
His shirt looked baggy around the shoulders, and it cinched in more at the waist than it used to.
How rough were his nights on that couch, that he dropped weight in just a week?
"Have you not been eating much lately?" I asked.
"I have," he replied.
"You've lost weight," I said.
"No, I haven't," he said.
Those words shut down the conversation.
I gripped the doorframe so hard my knuckles turned white.
That night, I went to the living room again.
His blanket was folded neatly in the corner of the couch, but he wasn't there.
The balcony door was left slightly open. I pushed it open a crack and saw him standing out there alone, smoking.
He'd quit smoking two years ago.
The tip of his cigarette glowed red in the dark, the smoke drifting away on the night breeze. He just leaned against the railing, shoulders hunched, like a tree bent under a heavy weight.
I slipped back inside and quietly closed the balcony door.
*****
On Monday, I went to the station to pick up my parents.
On the way, I kept forcing a smile, the lines at the corners of my eyes looking so fake, even I could tell how phony it was.
As soon as my mom stepped out of the station, she grabbed my hand and looked me up and down. "You've lost weight, and your face looks awful. Are you working yourself to death again?"
"I'm really okay, Mom, honestly," I said.
"Your dark circles are so bad they're about to hit your chin," she shot back.
My dad was lugging the bags behind us, staying quiet, but he just shot me a look.
That look weighed a ton, like he could see straight through me.
When we got home, James had already set out a whole spread. Every single dish was one of my parents' favorites, not a single one missing.
As soon as my mom walked in, she was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh my, James, you're way too thoughtful! Look at all this food!"
James came out of the kitchen in his apron, smiling. "It's the least I can do. You don't get to visit that often."
During dinner, my mom kept piling food onto James's plate.
"James, you've lost so much weight! Are you working yourself too hard? You can't keep burning the candle at both ends like this."
My dad nodded. "Yeah, you gotta take care of yourself."
James smiled at my parents and agreed to everything, his manners flawless, so polite, one couldn't find a single fault.
But I just kept poking at my food with my fork, couldn't get anything down.
He could be gentle and courteous to everyone else, but when it came to me, it was like there was an invisible wall between us.
After dinner, my mom pulled me aside into the guest room.
"Emily, are you and James having problems?" she asked.
"No, Mom, we're fine," I said.
"Still trying to fool me?" She shot me a look. "Do you think I'm blind? You two didn't say a single word to each other the whole meal. James was smiling, but it never reached his eyes. And you, you were totally out of it. Just tell me the truth."
No one knew me better than my mom.
My act fell apart in front of her in a heartbeat.
My nose stung, and I almost broke down right then and there.
"Mom..."
"Come on, tell me, what's wrong?"
I tried to say something, but the words just stuck in my throat.
I had no clue how to even begin.