Chapter 2

Henry's smile froze on his face.

I asked calmly, "Your older aunt has a pearl necklace, your younger aunt has one, and your wife has one. Why can't I have one?"

Henry's frown deepened, his tone growing impatient. "Mom, 1,300 bucks isn't pocket change. Are you really doing this to keep up with everyone else? What they have is their business. Can't we live our own lives?"

He didn't say the word "vain," but I could hear it loud and clear.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm vain. But what about when you graduated from college and wanted a computer just because your roommates had one? Doesn't that count as vanity?"

Henry was left speechless, his face turning bright red.

Peter jumped in, "Olivia, why are you being so stubborn? Go with Henry and return it. Seriously, a woman your age wearing pearls?"

I looked at his face.

I'd seen that face for thirty-four years, but suddenly, it felt like I was looking at a stranger.

All the emotions that had been churning inside me all night suddenly settled down.

I said, "I'm not returning it."

*****

After getting ready for bed, I went back to the bedroom. Peter was already turned away from me in bed.

I lay down and switched off the light. In the darkness, I could hear his deep, heavy breaths.

When I woke up the next morning, the space beside me was empty.

The house was so silent that I could hear the furnace humming downstairs.

I got up, washed up, and changed into some clothes.

When I opened the closet, all I saw were old clothes I'd been wearing for years.

They all looked dull and out of style.

The most expensive thing in there was a down jacket I'd bought on sale three years ago for 100 bucks.

As I touched those clothes, my nose suddenly stung with emotion.

When I married Peter at twenty-four, he was a high school teacher, and I worked as a sales clerk at a department store.

Back then, I thought I was marrying up.

After work, I handled all the chores and looked after Peter in every way. I treasured what I had.

Two years later, Henry was born.

Peter's parents were in poor health, so they couldn't help out with Henry back in their hometown.

Peter asked me to take unpaid leave from work so I could stay home with Henry, cook, do the laundry, and visit his parents more often.

When Henry was three, he spiked a high fever at ten at night, and outside, the snow was coming down in thick, heavy sheets.

Peter had a public lecture the next morning, so he needed to get his rest.

I swaddled Henry in thick blankets and, alone, trudged through the snow to the hospital. I sat up with him all night.

When his fever finally broke, I slumped into a chair in the hospital hallway, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

Once Henry started kindergarten, I was overjoyed. I couldn't wait to get back to work.

But then, Peter's mother, Emily Scott, injured her back.

Peter took my hand, his voice gentle. "Olivia, my course load is insane this semester, and I really can't spare the time. Could you help me look after Mom for a while longer?"

I said yes.

Because my mom always told me that once I married, my husband's family came first.

I dropped Henry off at kindergarten, then rode the bus for two hours out to the suburbs to take care of Emily, who was paralyzed and stuck in bed.

I rolled her over, wiped her down, massaged her, and helped her eat. By the end of the day, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold a fork.

The neighbors all said Peter had married a real saint.

When Peter came home on the weekend and saw his mother looking clean and refreshed, his eyes grew teary. "Olivia, you've worked so hard. It's my blessing to have married you."

Those words kept me going for another three years.

When Henry started elementary school, Peter arranged for him to go to a school near his own workplace.

I stayed behind in the village, continuing to look after Peter's parents.

Henry missed me so much that when he called, he'd cry until he could barely breathe.

I'd be crying on my end, too, but all I could say was, "Henry, hang in there. I will be back soon."

When Henry entered middle school, Peter's parents died, one after the other. I finally returned to the city. At last, we were together again as a family.

But Peter grew quieter and quieter.

Henry started middle school and hit his rebellious phase.

One day, I said I wanted to get a washing machine. My hands would freeze while washing clothes by hand in winter.

Peter scoffed, "What's the big deal about washing by hand? I did it all the time when I was a kid. You're just being lazy."

By then, I didn't have a job anymore and had no money of my own.

I never brought up the washing machine again.

Later, I set up a breakfast cart at the corner near our place.

Every day, I'd get up at three in the morning to brew coffee, toast bagels, and prep breakfast sandwiches.

In winter, my hands cracked from the cold. In summer, my clothes were so soaked with sweat that they could be wrung out.

But I made as much as Peter did.