A Thousand Roads, but Never Look Back

The next morning, Jeffrey fried a soft-boiled egg in the kitchen, my favorite. He pushed the little box with the earrings across the table. "Happy anniversary. Once I get through these next few busy days, I'll make it up to you with a dinner." "How about we go to Harmony Sushi?" His chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth. "Don't you dislike raw food?" "We had our first date there." He bent his head to sip his coffee. "They changed chefs at that place. It's not as good as before. Pick somewhere else." I put the earrings on. "Do they look nice?" Jeffrey reached over and brushed the hair away from my ear. "They look nice." "Does Pamela have a pair too?" "Cordelia." "Just asking." "For her birthday I gave her a scarf. Standard for the whole department." Six months ago he'd had stomach bleeding, and Pamela was the one who rushed him to the hospital that night. Ever since, he kept saying he owed the girl. At first it was just driving her home, going with her to her appointments. Later, even the effort I put in every single day became part of how he paid her back. He stood and reached for his coat. "Don't wait up for me tonight. And don't eat anything cold." "Got it." "Your medicine's in the second drawer. Take one if your stomach acts up." "Jeffrey." He turned back. "Something else?" "Happy anniversary." He smiled a little. "I'll call you when it wraps up tonight." Late that morning, I got a call from the bakery. Every year they delivered a cake to us for our wedding anniversary. I held the phone and thought for a second. "I'll come pick it up myself." I carried the cake to the sushi place, and through the door of the private room I heard Pamela laughing. "Mr. Matthews, aren't you afraid your wife will find out?" "Find out what?" "That you give me all the food she makes." Jeffrey's voice dropped low. "She's soft-hearted. She won't hold it against me. But don't go bringing it up in front of her on purpose." Pamela was quiet for a moment. "If she knew, wouldn't she be upset?" "She'll understand." "Then maybe I should just order my own lunch from now on." "No need. Don't let it go to waste." When the server pushed the door open to bring the food in, I didn't have time to step aside, and Pamela looked up and saw me standing outside. Her face froze for an instant, then she smoothly looked away as if nothing had happened. I turned and left. Pamela's message popped up right away. 【Don't get the wrong idea. Mr. Matthews is just paying me back for taking him to the hospital that time.】 Right after, she sent a photo from inside the room. In it, she was wearing the scarf Jeffrey had given her, and his coat was draped over the back of her chair. I carried the cake home. Halfway there, Jeffrey sent a message. 【There's a dinner thing later, all guys, really boring.】 I sent back an okay. His so-called meeting and dinner, I'd already stood outside that door and heard the whole thing. I opened the cake and scooped off the words on top with a spoon, "Happy Sixth Wedding Anniversary." At eleven that night, Jeffrey came home. "Why aren't the lights on?" "Forgot." He saw the cake box on the table. "How did you eat this much by yourself?" Jeffrey picked up a spoon and tasted it. "Too sweet. You should cut back." "What did you have for lunch?" "A stir-fried dish near the office." "No sushi?" He looked at me. "Why the sudden question?" "I felt like having salmon today." "I'll take you sometime." "How about that place, Harmony?" Jeffrey was silent for two seconds, then reached out and pulled me against him. "Sure, whatever you want." "Let's get some sleep. Tonight's dinner really wore me out."

The next day, Pamela showed up at the door with three lunchboxes in her arms. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it bothered you." She set the boxes on the table and explained in a small voice, "I was cleaning up the office and realized there were a few Mr. Matthews hadn't gotten a chance to bring back." "I haven't said anything yet." "Mr. Matthews scolded me yesterday for posting on social media and making you misunderstand." She turned the top box around so I could see it. The note on the lid had been torn down to a single corner. "My stomach's bad. Mr. Matthews saw me taking pills all the time, so he gave me the lunches." "Your stomach's been bad for ninety-nine days straight?" Pamela bit her lip. "Do you think I stole your things on purpose?" "I only ate a few meals." "Then why crumple up the note?" "It didn't have my name on it. It was strange to leave it there." Jeffrey came out of the bedroom, and the moment he saw the scene his brow creased. "Who told you to come here?" Pamela lowered her head. "I wanted to explain things to her." "Please don't be angry, Mr. Matthews. It's all my fault." Jeffrey instinctively stepped in front of her. "Cordelia, I'm the one who gave her the food. This has nothing to do with her." "I didn't say it had anything to do with her." "Then what were the two of you talking about?" "About how she's eaten it for ninety-nine days, whether her stomach's any better." Pamela looked up at him. "Mr. Matthews, have I caused you trouble?" Jeffrey picked up her bag. "No." "I'll have the driver take you home. Your blood sugar's low. Don't take the subway." He turned to look at me. "I'll walk her down. I'll be right back." "Go ahead." Pamela reached the door, then hesitated and stopped. "About the box on the bottom. I washed it once and set it on the drying rack, and I knocked it off by accident." "I had someone glue it, but I don't think it came out right." Then she bowed her head, as if she'd truly only made one small, unimportant mistake. After Pamela left, I opened the lunchboxes. The one on the bottom was the insulated container my mother had given me before she died. The lid had cracked down one side, and the latch was snapped off. Jeffrey spoke up at once, smoothing it over. "She didn't do it on purpose." "How do you know?" "She already apologized." He held the cracked container, trying to press the latch back into place. "The latch is broken. I'll get it fixed." "Or I'll buy you ten of the newest ones tomorrow." "My mother gave this to me before she died." I stared at the crack, my voice shaking. Jeffrey's hands went still for a moment. "I know you don't want to let it go, but it's broken. We have to find some way to deal with it." "It's mine. I don't need you to fix it." "Cordelia, she already apologized. What more do you want her to do?" I looked at the crack in his palm, and suddenly one more word of explanation felt pointless. Jeffrey set the container back on the table and tried, the way he always did, to wrap up the argument. "You've been off lately. Is it because I didn't spend our anniversary with you?" "A little." "I knew it." Jeffrey pressed a gift voucher the size of a key card into my hand. "Two nights at the hot springs resort. I'll take you next month." "And if something comes up for Pamela?" "Stop holding on to her like this." "Looking out for her a little more as her boss doesn't mean I don't love you." "You love me?" "Of course." "Do you love her?" "No." "Then why are you better to her than to me?" Jeffrey frowned. "When was I ever better to her than to you?" "My stomach hurt and I wanted to eat crackers in the car. You said they'd leave crumbs and made me get out." "And your passenger seat was covered in her chip crumbs." "Her blood sugar's low. It's a different situation." "I wanted sushi. You said it was hard on my stomach." "She wanted it, and you took her that same day." "Because it was her birthday." "That day was our anniversary too." Jeffrey said nothing. I pushed the signed divorce papers across to him. "Let's get divorced." Jeffrey glanced at them without opening them. "You're worked up right now. We'll talk once you've calmed down." He still stubbornly believed that as long as he arranged everything for me, the problem would go away on its own. I didn't argue anymore. He walked into the kitchen and, with practiced ease, cooked a bowl of noodles with no scallions and no cilantro. "See? I remember everything you don't like. Stop letting your mind run wild." Jeffrey ruffled my hair. "I know." He did remember what I wouldn't eat. But he never understood that remembering what I couldn't eat didn't give him the right to decide things for me.

The divorce papers still sat pinned under the corner of the table. He acted like they weren't there. Before he left work, Jeffrey texted to say he wanted to make up for the anniversary. He came home carrying groceries and a bunch of my favorite white lisianthus. "Sit down, no helping. Tonight you do what I say." He butchered two tomatoes and burned one steak black. Just as he set it on the table, Pamela called. "Mr. Matthews, a pipe burst at my place." "Building maintenance won't be here for half an hour, and I can't find the main shutoff. I'm so scared." A cramp twisted through my stomach, sharp enough that I clawed at the edge of the table. I have a serious history of stomach ulcers. My doctor has warned me again and again not to push through it when my emotions are running high. "Jeffrey, I'm not feeling well." He came over quickly, dug out my stomach pills, and pressed them into my hand. "Take one first. I'll be back in half an hour." "Maintenance is already on the way." "She's home alone." "I'm home alone too." Jeffrey's hand paused, then he set the pills in my palm anyway. "The water's already up near the outlets. What if it shorts out?" "You said you weren't going anywhere tonight." "You've got your pills, and you know how to reach your doctor." He yanked off the apron and grabbed his car keys. "She's really helpless over there." I gripped the table's edge, knuckles white. "And if I just won't let you go tonight?" Jeffrey turned his head, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "You never used to be this unreasonable." "You can't be this selfish." The front door slammed shut. He was rushing off to mop the floor in another woman's life, with no idea my stomach was bleeding. The steak slowly went cold. An hour later, I asked when he was coming back. He replied that he was helping Pamela explain things to the neighbors downstairs. Two hours later, he sent a photo of the flooded floor. Pamela sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch, his jacket at her feet. The stomach pills weren't working. Cold sweat crawled down my back in waves. I stared at that photo and called Jeffrey. The first call, no one answered. The second was rejected. The third cut off on its own. A few minutes later, a message came through on the app: 【Mr. Matthews can't take calls right now. He'll come back once things are handled.】 That wasn't how Jeffrey talked. I knew whose hand was on his phone. I didn't pin my hopes on a fourth call. The next second my stomach heaved, and I doubled over the sink and threw up a mouthful of blood. I called for an ambulance first, then sent my location to Zane Hughes. By the time the ambulance arrived, the pain had me unable to stand. The doctor said it was bleeding from the ulcer, and that a little later would have been more dangerous. Past midnight, Jeffrey sent one message after another demanding to know where I was. Not until early the next morning did Zane use my phone to reply with three words: "City General Hospital." Jeffrey rushed in, eyes shot through with red, his shirt a mess of creases. "Why didn't you tell me you'd gone to the hospital?" I looked at him. "I called three times." "My phone was in the living room. I didn't hear it." "Pamela was upset. She might have touched it." "She didn't know you'd have a stomach bleed either." At the bedside, Zane let out a laugh of pure disbelief. "Cordelia's lying here, and the first thing you do is still explain things for Pamela?" Jeffrey didn't answer. "I'm sorry." "Let me go pay. Once you're better, I'll make up for the anniversary." I stayed in the hospital three days. Those three days, Jeffrey came every day, explaining over and over that he'd thought I'd be fine once I took the pills. I didn't argue with him anymore. I just had Zane help me contact a moving company. The day I was discharged, Jeffrey went back to the office to handle work. I packed up everything I owned and moved into Zane's place.