Chapter 4
9:30 AM.
The doctor made his rounds.
"You're recovering well," he said, "but you absolutely can't do any strenuous exercise for the next two months. For the first two weeks, you should stay in bed."
Jane nodded, looking so meek and obedient that it was almost hard to believe she was usually the tough, no-nonsense detective everyone knew.
After the doctor left, she looked at me.
"Did you talk to Editor Carter about taking time off?" she asked.
"Not yet," I replied.
"Call him now," she said, her tone all business, like she was giving out orders. "Two months. Let him know ahead of time so he won't be left scrambling at the last minute."
Two months.
She had it all figured out.
It was like she was assigning roles in a squad, Simon was in charge of logistics, Henry handled emotional support, and her job was to rest and recover.
"Alright," I said.
I stepped out of the hospital room.
I didn't call Editor.
I called the print shop instead.
"Hey, I'm sending a file to your email. Can you print two copies for me? Letter-size paper, black and white is fine," I said.
"Sure, sir. When do you want to pick them up?" the employee on the other end asked.
"This afternoon," I replied.
I hung up.
I stood by the window at the end of the hallway.
The sunlight was warm and bright.
Autumn had settled in outside.
The ginkgo leaves were a sea of gold.
It was beautiful.
But honestly, it had nothing to do with how I was feeling right now.
*****
At 3 PM, Henry showed up.
He was right on time, like he'd clocked in for work.
He was wearing clean clothes, his hair neatly done, and he had a plastic bag with food in his hand.
"Jane, I brought you your favorite honey cakes," Henry said.
Jane's eyes lit up.
"Which shop?" she asked.
"That old shop down in the south part of town. I waited in line for forty minutes."
"Shouldn't you be at work right now?"
"I asked the captain for some time off," Henry said with a grin, unwrapping the honey cakes and setting them in front of her.
Forty minutes.
He took time off.
Just to bring her her favorite honey cake.
I'd sat there all night, and that morning I'd only managed a couple bites of dry bread.
Not a single person bothered to ask what I wanted to eat.
Jane took a bite of the honey cake, her eyes closing in delight.
"Yep, tastes just like I remember. Was the last time I had this last year?" she asked.
"Last October," Henry answered right away. "After we wrapped up that big case, you said you were craving it, so I brought some back for you."
Last October.
He actually remembered.
He remembered it down to the month.
I stood by the window, watching them chat.
Jane looked completely at ease, a natural smile on her lips, her voice light and carefree.
It was like she finally felt at home, perfectly at ease, like water settling into the glass made just for it.
Me, though.
I was probably the stainless steel thermos that always held her water: practical, hard to break, and able to keep it warm forever.
But she never really liked drinking from it.
She said it tasted flat.
"Honey, can you get me a bottle of water? Room temperature, please," Jane called out.
I snapped back to reality.
"Sure," I replied.
I stepped out of the room.
I walked over to the vending machine.
I dropped in some coins.
The bottle of water dropped with a loud thunk inside the machine.
I didn't go back right away.
I stood there, staring at that green bottle for a while.
Three years.
One thousand and ninety-seven days.
I was like this vending machine, drop in a coin, out comes water.
Always reliable, never any surprises.
Used, then left behind.
My phone buzzed.
A message from my lawyer, Mr. Carter:
[I've looked over the agreement. No major issues. Are you sure you want to go through with this?]
I typed back:
[Yes.]
I hit send.
I headed back to the hospital room.
Henry was still there.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, peeling an orange for Jane.
He was being extra careful, picking off every bit of white pith and arranging the orange segments on a napkin.
I handed her the water.
Jane took it, twisted off the cap, and took a sip.
"Thanks," she said.
She said it so casually, like it was nothing.
As if she'd accepted a used tissue.
Henry looked up at me.
"Simon, why don't you head home and get some rest? You look awful, seriously. I'll take care of things here," he said.
There he was.
No matter what, he's always there for her.
"Alright," I said.
I grabbed my jacket.
Before leaving, I glanced back.
Henry was telling Jane about what happened at the Criminal Investigation Unit today.
She laughed so hard she nearly doubled over, tugged at her wound, and hissed in pain.
Henry quickly steadied her. "Stop laughing. If your wound splits open, I'll never be able to make it up to you."
She swatted his hand away. "Get lost. I'm not made of porcelain."
The two of them were cracking up together.
The vibe between them was so natural, so easy.
It was so perfect, there wasn't room for anyone else.
I quietly closed the door behind me.
Out in the hallway.
My footsteps sounded hollow in the empty corridor.
I walked over to the elevator.
I pressed the down button.
When the doors slid open, I caught my reflection in the mirror inside.
Thirty-one years old.
Dark circles under my eyes.
My lips were chapped.
My hair looked like a bird's nest.
A failed husband.
No.
More like a man she'd never treated as her husband.