Chapter 4
The ER was packed with people waiting in line.
As the nurse was rinsing my burn, she asked, "Where's your family?"
"I don't have any," I said.
My phone buzzed three times in my bag.
The first message was from James.
"Are you done yet? Come back."
The second message came through.
"My mom's blood pressure is up. You happy now?"
The third message came ten minutes later.
"Maggie's been crying nonstop. You have to apologize to her."
The nurse wrapped my hand in gauze, frowning. "Don't get it wet for the next couple of days."
I nodded and shoved the payment slip into my bag.
James called me at 1 AM.
I answered.
There was a lot of noise in the background, and Maggie's crying kept breaking through the line.
"Where are you?" James asked.
"At the hospital," I replied.
"Charlotte, can you stop putting on an act?" James said.
The sharp smell of disinfectant stung my nose.
"Burned my hand," I said.
"Maggie's stomach's acting up because you freaked her out. I don't have time for your theatrics right now," James snapped.
Before he hung up, Maggie's soft voice drifted through, "James, don't be mad at Charlotte. She's probably just acting out because she cares about you so much."
The next day at noon, I went home to pick up my documents.
There were two suitcases in the living room.
Maggie was sitting on the couch, with the box I hadn't gotten around to packing up yesterday at her feet.
When she saw me walk in, she jumped up right away.
"Charlotte, don't get the wrong idea. Mrs. Whitman said it's not convenient for me to stay alone, so she asked me to crash here for a couple of days," Maggie said.
James walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of warm water.
"You stressed her out so much last night she got sick," he said.
I looked at that cup.
It was the bone cup my mom left me, with a faint crack at the bottom. I never had the heart to use it.
James followed my gaze.
"Come on, it's just a cup," he said.
Maggie clutched the cup tighter.
"I didn't know it was yours. Should I stop using it?" she said.
"Put it down," I said.
I sounded so unfamiliar, even to myself.
Maggie's hand trembled, and the cup slipped from her grasp, landing softly on the carpet without breaking.
James came over fast, stepped between us, like I was some kind of threat, and pulled Maggie behind him.
"Charlotte, why are you scaring her?" he demanded.
"This is my house," I said.
"It's my house too," he shot back.
"Your name's not on the deed," I said.
His face darkened.
This house was the last thing my mom made sure I had before she passed away.
When James proposed, he promised he'd never take a dime from me.
"I'm marrying you, not your house," he said.
Later, his mom kept nagging him to put his name on the deed, but he always shut her down.
Back then, I really believed he loved me for me.
Maggie's eyes were red as she spoke up.
"Charlotte, don't get so hung up on this. Why draw lines between what's yours and what's his? That just makes things worse between you two," she said.
I walked over to the couch and pulled the box out from under her feet.
Inside were James's winter clothes, and our wedding photo frame.
There was a sticky note stuck to the back of the frame.
I'd written it three years ago.
"James, come home safe."
Maggie picked it up, looked it over, and smirked a little.
"Charlotte, you really loved him back then," she said.
James said, his voice stern, "Maggie."
She suddenly seemed to realize and hurriedly put the frame back.
But her hand slipped, and the frame crashed to the floor.
The glass shattered, a jagged crack splitting right across my face in the photo.
James glanced at it.
"It's just an old photo. If it's broken, it's broken," he said.
The burn under the gauze started throbbing again.
I crouched down to pick up the photo, and my fingertip got cut by a shard of glass.
A bead of blood welled up and fell onto the white wedding dress in the photo.
Maggie whispered, "James, I swear I didn't do it on purpose."
James picked up a tissue and gently handed it to her so she could wipe her tears.
"I know," he said.
I folded up the photo and stuffed it into my bag.
James suddenly spotted the file peeking out from under the coffee table.
He pulled it out and flipped to the first page.