Chapter 5
After I left, the Miller residence's living room was plunged into a deep silence.
Hank stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving violently.
He couldn't believe that I, who had always been so gentle and obedient, had actually left like that.
No crying, no begging. I left so cleanly, so determined.
An unprecedented fear slowly wrapped around Hank's heart, like vines tightening their grip.
"Ungrateful wretch!" Mandy was the first to break the silence, her voice dripping with venom. "Good riddance. Finally, some peace around here.
"Let's see what happens to a divorced woman like her."
She spat out curses, but deep down, she was starting to feel uneasy.
With me out of the picture, who was going to care for Henry?
Just then, Henry, sitting in his wheelchair, let out a few muffled grunts.
His fingers pointed toward the glass of water on the table.
He was thirsty.
Normally, I would have already brought him a glass of water by now. "Dad, you want some water, right?"
Hank snapped out of it and grabbed the cup, ready to help Henry drink.
The water was too hot. Henry jerked in pain, and most of it splashed onto the front of his shirt.
"Look at you. Can't you do anything right?" Mandy snapped at Hank, scrambling for a towel.
The living room was in chaos.
By dinner time, all hell had broken loose.
Mandy didn't have a clue how to make the liquid meals Henry needed after his stroke.
Hank ordered takeout, but Henry couldn't swallow the greasy food.
After all the fuss, Henry was left hungry and pushed back to his room.
Hank and Mandy collapsed onto the couch, completely wiped out.
"How are we supposed to live like this?" Mandy sighed, her voice full of despair. "It's all because of that jinx, Jenny."
Hank ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Enough. Just shut up."
He picked up his phone, wanting to call me.
He wanted to curse me out; he wanted me crawling back.
But he keyed in my number, yet couldn't bring himself to press call.
He recalled the icy coldness in my eyes as I had walked out the door. And suddenly, he felt afraid.
*****
Late into the night, Henry lay alone in bed, eyes wide open. Sleep was nowhere to be found.
He could hear Hank and Mandy's voices raised in anger from the next room.
He could smell the sour odor clinging to his body because no one had bothered to wash him properly.
He could feel this family breaking apart, piece by piece.
Two years ago, when he first had his stroke, Henry was irritable and incontinent. But I never complained. Every day, I washed him, emptied his bedpans, and cleaned up his messes without a word of grievance.
I always came up with different ways to make him nutritious, easy-to-digest meals.
When he felt hopeless, I never stopped pushing him to do his rehab exercises, no matter how many times he wanted to give up.
But Hank and Mandy? They stood around, giving orders or staying out of it completely.
Henry knew better than anyone who had really been taking care of him these past two years.
He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. But he wasn't clueless.
This afternoon, when Hank and Mandy forced me to divorce and tried to throw me out with nothing but the clothes on my back, Henry was so furious that he was shaking. He wanted to yell at them.
He wanted to stand up and smack that unfilial son of his. But he was powerless to do anything.
All he could do was watch helplessly as the best daughter-in-law he could ever ask for was pushed out by them.
In the darkness, Henry let out a stifled whimper from the back of his throat.
With great effort, he slowly pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth from beneath his pillow.
He carefully unwrapped it, layer by layer. Inside was a property deed and a printed will, unsigned.