Chapter 2
That night, James didn't come home.
The next morning, when the door unlocked, I was packing his shirts into a box.
A white shirt slipped out of the box, missing one of its cufflinks.
The missing one was that little silver cufflink Maggie had flaunted on her wrist in those grid photos she posted online.
James stood in the doorway, with his mother, Linda Whitman, right behind him.
Linda frowned the moment she stepped inside.
"Why does the house feel so cold and empty? James hardly ever comes home, and you can't even bother to make breakfast?" she complained.
She was carrying an insulated soup container, and her tone softened as she handed it to James.
"Maggie made this soup and had me bring it over. She said you've lost weight lately," Linda said.
When she opened the container, the smell of yam and pork ribs filled the room.
I was allergic to yams. Everyone in the Whitman family knew that.
In our first year of marriage, James poured Linda's yam soup right into the trash, took my hand, and said, "If anyone ever makes you feel uncomfortable, I'll always protect you."
Linda looked upset, but James stepped in front of me, shielding me from any harsh words.
Now, he sat at the dining table and took a sip of the soup.
"Not bad," he said.
Linda caught sight of the clothes in the box, and her voice turned sharp.
"Why are you packing James's things?" she demanded.
"He's not staying in the master bedroom anymore," I replied.
"You can't just kick your husband out every time you two argue. Charlotte, don't go thinking James is spoiling you and keep acting up," Linda said.
'Spoiling me?' I thought.
That's a first.
For the past three years, I'd been living alone in this empty house, too scared to even call him on his birthday. All I could do was type out my birthday wishes and leave them in my drafts.
He just said his job was "special," so I didn't dare ask questions, didn't dare complain, didn't even dare fall ill.
Linda sat down, acting all high and mighty like she owned the place.
"Poor Maggie, she's had it rough. It wasn't her choice to split with James back then. As his wife, you should be the bigger person and let it go," Linda lectured.
I neatly folded the last shirt.
"I don't have to be the bigger person," I said.
James looked up.
"Watch your tone with my mom," James warned.
Linda let out a cold laugh.
"Maggie said last night she was worried you'd think something was going on, so she didn't even dare come over. Look how thoughtful she is," Linda said.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
James got up and opened the door.
Maggie was standing outside, wearing a cream-colored sweater and holding a bouquet of lilies.
"Mrs. Whitman, I wasn't really planning to come by, but James said you were here, so I thought I'd stop in with some flowers," Maggie said.
When she saw me, her face instantly took on that perfectly rehearsed look of apology.
"You don't mind, do you, Charlotte?" she asked.
Lily pollen scattered across the doormat.
When I was a kid, I was hospitalized because of a bad allergic reaction to lily pollen. James never forgot that for two years.
During our first year of marriage, every vase in the house only had lisianthus. He said, "We don't want anything in this house that could make it hard for you to breathe."
Now, Maggie came in carrying a big bouquet of lilies.
James took the flowers and set them in the vase at the center of the living room.
"Come on, she's not that fragile," James said.
The fragrance of lilies took over the whole place.
My throat started to close up, so I headed to the window and cracked it open.
Maggie whispered, "James, maybe I should just go. Charlotte doesn't seem too happy to see me."
James turned to me, his gaze sharp.
"Apologize to her," James said.
The wind outside was biting, stinging my eyes.
"Why should I?" Charlotte shot back.
Linda slammed her fork down on the table.
"Because you're the Whitman Family's daughter-in-law, and Maggie was thoughtful enough to come by early this morning just to see you two," Linda snapped.
James stood right next to Maggie, not a hint of discomfort on his face, like he couldn't care less.
"Charlotte, don't embarrass me in front of my mom," James said.
Maggie's eyes grew misty as she reached out and tugged at James's sleeve.
"Forget it, James. Charlotte's probably still mad about those photos I posted," Maggie said.
On her wrist, the silver cufflink from James's shirt was now strung into a bracelet.
James leaned in and straightened her sleeve for her.
"She's just hot-tempered, don't mind her," he said.
The living room window slammed shut with a bang from the wind.
A lily petal fell right out of the vase and landed on my divorce papers.