Chapter 6

After breakfast, I went back to my room and checked my phone. Olivia had spammed me with voice notes.

The short version was that she'd be coming over that afternoon with milk tea and fried chicken because she wanted to see my "crazy scene" in person. I texted back: [Okay.]

Then another message came in, this one from James: [Mom called me. She said you pissed May off and drove her away again.]

I looked at the message and laughed. I replied: [May was invited by your mom, not me. She came to make me apologize. I refused, so she left. How exactly is that me driving her away?]

Two minutes later, he replied: [Can you calm down for one day?]

I texted back: [No.]

He sent another message: [I'll be back at noon. We need to talk.]

I replied: [Fine. Bring lunch. I'm not cooking.] He didn't text back.

I set my phone down, walked to the window, and looked out at the garden. The flowers were blooming beautifully in red, white, and yellow.

I used to water them first thing every morning because Carol said they were worth more than people. Now no one was watering them, and they were still doing fine.

See? Some things aren't nearly as necessary as we think. They only feel that way because we've been told they are.

At noon, James came back. He changed his shoes and walked into the living room with a takeout bag, which he set on the coffee table. "Brought you something."

I opened it and found a beef rice bowl and a salad. "How did you know I like this?"

"I didn't. I grabbed something randomly."

The past me would've felt hurt hearing that. Now I only found it funny. "Thanks. Random or not, at least you brought me lunch today. That's already an improvement."

I opened the container and started eating while he sat beside me and watched.

"Emily, you're really not planning to get divorced anymore?"

"Nope," I said around a bite of beef. "Before, I wanted out. Now I'm staying because your family owes me. I spent two years being your unpaid maid. You think you can simply say divorce and that's that? Not that cheap."

"Then what do you want?"

"I already made that clear last night." I set down my chopsticks and looked at him. "First, I'm done working around this house. Second, stop treating me like I don't exist. Third, I want compensation. All three. Not one less."

He stayed quiet for a long time. "I'll talk to my mom," he finally said, "but don't go too far either."

"I'm going too far? James, your mother called me a dog in public, and I've been worked like one at home. And I'm the one going too far?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?"

He went silent again. James had no trouble asking whether I'd finished making a scene, but the second things got real, he clammed up.

Forget it, I said. "Go back to work. Come talk to me again when you've figured out your own thoughts."

He stood up, walked to the door, then stopped. "Emily."

"Yeah?"

"That red dress you wore yesterday... it looked good on you."

I froze. In two years, it was the first time he'd ever complimented me. Before, he wouldn't even glance at new clothes, and if I asked how I looked, he'd only say, "Whatever."

Now, out of nowhere, he'd said I looked good. Was I supposed to be happy? I didn't know.

"Thanks. I wasn't wearing it for you."

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but in the end he turned and left. After the door shut, I sat on the couch staring at it, my heartbeat too fast. I told myself not to go soft over a single sentence.

He'd done nothing for two years. I couldn't forgive everything over one "you looked good." Not yet.

At two in the afternoon, Olivia came over carrying a huge bag stuffed with coffee, fried chicken, and strawberries.

The second she came in, she hugged me. "Em. You're incredible. I watched that video ten times. Carol's face, I could laugh about that for a year."

I laughed too and pulled her onto the couch. Grace brought over fruit, glanced at Olivia, and quietly stepped away, but Olivia called after her, "Grace, don't go. Tell me what our Em's been up to these last two days."

Grace stood at the kitchen doorway, unsure whether she should say anything. "Go on," I said. "Let her hear it."

So Grace told her everything that had happened over the last two days, the cake at the banquet, the ambulance after I came home, and May getting chased off that morning. Olivia listened with shining eyes, her mouth practically hanging open.

"Em," she said, grabbing my hand, "what happened to the old doormat version of you? Were you possessed by an alien?"

"No. I merely figured things out."

"Figured out what?"

"One simple truth." I took a sip of coffee. "The weaker you act, the more people bully you. The crazier you act, the more they fear you."

Olivia nodded hard. "Exactly. I've been telling you forever, you used to be way too nice."

We talked all afternoon, ate fried chicken, drank coffee, and even finished the beef rice James had brought back.

When Olivia left, she hugged me and said, "Em, if you can't hold on anymore, call me anytime. My home is your home."

"Okay," I said.

By the time I walked Olivia out, it was already dark. When I returned to the living room, I realized George had gone out and Grace was off work.

For a moment I thought I was alone in the house. Then footsteps sounded upstairs.

James had come back at some point without me noticing. I went upstairs and found him in the bedroom, standing in front of the closet like he was looking for something. "Why are you home so early today?" I asked.

He answered, "Nothing going on at the office. I came back to change."

He pulled out a shirt and started unbuttoning the one he had on. Before, whenever he changed, I'd turn away, not because I was shy, but because he didn't like me watching.

Today, I didn't turn away. I stood at the doorway and watched him.

His fingers paused on a button, and he turned to look at me. "What are you looking at?"

"My husband. Not allowed?"

His ears turned a little red. For a second I thought I was seeing things. James, the man who never blushed, actually had red ears.

He took off the shirt, threw on a clean one, and moved fast, like he was afraid I'd get another look. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked, sounding a little awkward.

"No clue. If you want food, make it yourself. I already said I'm done cooking."

He glanced at me, said nothing, and went downstairs.