Chapter 3

I picked up the phone and heard a child crying on the other end, and Clara was crying too.

Michael sounded tired. "Where did you put it?"

"In the side pocket," I said.

"It's not there."

"Then you're not looking hard enough."

Michael took a deep breath. "Can you not be stubborn right now?"

I put down my fork.

I said, "The kid's sick, and instead of going to the pharmacy, you call me to help you find a fever patch over the phone. Who's really holding things up here?"

Michael paused.

Clara spoke up from nearby. "Forget it. I knew I shouldn't have asked you for help. go back, I'll take care of the kid myself."

The kid's cries grew louder.

Michael quickly lowered his voice, trying to soothe her. "That's not what I meant."

I chuckled. "Go ahead, make sure your precious Dorm doesn't go up in flames."

I hung up.

The food was still warm.

Today, I cooked spaghetti.

At one in the morning, the doorbell rang.

I peeked out through the peephole.

Michael was standing at the door, his coat all wrinkled, looking dead tired with bags under his eyes, holding a bag of meds.

I didn't open the door.

He rang the bell again.

I turned on the intercom. "What do you want?"

He looked at the camera. "Open up, I need to pick something up."

"What do you need?"

"The kid threw up tonight, and we're out of clean towels at home. I remember you had those disposable bath towels."

I almost burst out laughing.

"I bought those for myself, for my business trips," I replied.

"I'll take two," Michael said.

"No way."

Michael stared, stunned. "Did you say no?"

"No way."

Michael looked at me, totally stunned.

He was used to me always saying yes.

When he worked late, I kept dinner warm for him.

When his buddies came over to drink, I picked up after them.

When he was in a bad mood, I never asked why. I sat with him in silence.

When I saw old photos of Clara Hart on his phone, I quietly turned off the screen.

I was always giving, way too much.

He got used to thinking he could take whatever he wanted from me, and I'd always be there for him, no matter what.

I stared at Michael's exhausted face on the monitor and said coolly, "There's a convenience store right downstairs. It's open all night."

"You can get them at the convenience store downstairs. It's open 24/7," I said.

Michael, barely holding back his temper, said, "I'm really tired right now."

"Then go to bed."

"It's a mess over there. How am I supposed to sleep?"

"Then go take care of it."

He stared at the camera for a long moment before finally asking, "Are you really not going to help me anymore?"

"Are you really not going to help me anymore?" he asked.

I shot back, "Do you even need me anymore? Isn't Clara the one you should be protecting now?"

Michael opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

I turned off the intercom.

Michael lingered outside for a bit, then I heard his footsteps slowly fade away.

The next day, Mrs. Bennett called.

She sighed as soon as she started talking.

"Did you two have a fight?" she asked.

I was drying the pot I'd washed. "No, we didn't."

"If that's true, then why is Michael staying at Clara Hart's place? I heard she has a kid, and he's always over there."

"He's not dropping by. He's actually living there now."

There was a long pause on the other end.

After a while, Mrs. Bennett lowered her voice. "How could you let him go live with her?"

I stopped what I was doing.

"Aunt Linda, he's got his own two feet. I can't tie him down," I said.

Mrs. Bennett's voice grew anxious. "You're the one closest to him. You should talk some sense into him. That woman was never reliable, and now she's back with a kid. It's obvious what she's after."

I gave a short laugh.

"Since you can see it and he can't, maybe you should be the one to talk to him," I said.

"He never listens to me, but he always listens to you," Mrs. Bennett said.

I looked around the empty living room and said, "Maybe he used to. But now, he only listens to Clara."

Mrs. Bennett went quiet.

I continued, "I never kicked him out. He's the one who's all soft for her. I left the door open so he wouldn't have to sneak around like some teenager."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

"Sarah, when did you get so tough all of a sudden?" Mrs. Bennett asked.

I didn't say anything.