Divorcing the Husband Who Chose Her

2: 2

At eight-thirty the next morning, Karl parked the car downstairs right on time.

The white chrysanthemums, the honey almond cake, the offerings for the grave, all packed. There was even a fresh tube of burn ointment on the passenger seat.

He crouched at the entryway to change my dressing, then tucked a thermos into my bag.

"It's windy up on the hill. Don't go on an empty stomach."

I looked at everything he'd prepared, and something in me softened.

It wasn't as if Karl had never been good to me.

When my mother first got sick, he was the one who ran to the hospital with me, paid the bills, picked up the medicine.

The car had barely cleared the complex when his phone rang.

Janice's crying came through.

"Karl, the ring's cutting off my finger, it's turned purple. The jeweler says they have to cut it off right now or I could lose the finger."

Karl slammed on the brakes.

"We'll go to the jeweler first. Cut it off and we're gone, it won't take long."

He started to turn around.

I pressed a hand on my seatbelt.

"Have your mother go with her. I don't want to see her."

Karl frowned, agitated.

"I'm the one who took the ring out. Whether they cut it or pry it off, she won't dare decide alone. Take a cab to the cemetery first. I'll deal with this and be right there."

I looked at him, and the disappointment settled.

"Karl, you promised me you wouldn't make me wait today."

He reached over to straighten my scarf, his face all helpless resignation.

"Janice's finger has already gone purple. If your mother were still here, she wouldn't want us fighting over something like this."

I said nothing more, pushed the door open, and got out.

He was using my dead mother to talk me into going easy on Janice.

He'd forgotten that today was the anniversary of her death.

The wind at the cemetery was strong.

The honey almond cake went cold and hard fast.

I sat alone in front of the headstone, wiping the dust away bit by bit with a tissue.

I don't know how long it was before Karl came running, out of breath, and draped his coat over my shoulders.

"The store held me up. I'll come here with you again tomorrow."

The coat slid to the ground.

"My mother's memorial day doesn't get pushed to tomorrow just because you're busy."

I looked at his empty hands.

"Where's the ring?"

His eyes darted away.

"They cut it off."

"Then give it back to me."

After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke.

"Janice hurt her finger. Mom felt bad about it, so she had the store re-set it to Janice's size. Call it a make-up gift for the recognition ceremony."

I laughed out loud.

"It fits her perfectly, then. And did you ever once think about how I feel?"

Karl's tone turned impatient.

"It's just resizing a ring. You can have it changed back anytime. I already rushed over here. Are you determined to wipe out every good thing I've ever done for you?"

I laid the white chrysanthemums in front of the grave.

"My mother always used to put in a good word for you. She probably wouldn't blame you."

Back at the marital apartment, I froze where I stood.

A few rain-soaked cardboard boxes were stacked in the corridor.

My mother's clothes, her photo albums, her old radio, scattered all over the floor.

After I gave up my old apartment, I'd stored her things in the guest room for the time being.

Silvia had the door code to the apartment, and to make room for Janice to stay, she'd cleared everything out on her own.

The albums had swollen from the water. The last photo of my mother, taken while she was hospitalized, her face had blurred into a smear.

Janice came walking over under an umbrella, her face full of surprise.

"Autumn, I honestly didn't know these were your mother's things. She's gone now. Keeping all this around, doesn't it just hurt to look at?"

I slapped her hand away.

"Wearing my ring, living in my room, throwing out my mother's things. You get to grab every last benefit, and then say you didn't know. Is that fun for you?"

Karl came up the stairs at that exact moment, saw the scene, and his face fell instantly.

He scolded Silvia to her face, then crouched down to wipe off the old radio, and after that called a photo shop about restoring the pictures.

He worked at it in earnest, like he truly ached for me.

Once he'd taped the boxes shut, I asked only one thing.

"Is Janice still staying here tonight?"

His hands stopped.

"Her rental has a leak, she's only staying three days. I'll get the photos fixed and move the things back. Stop clinging to this."

I was fully awake now.

He would always come to clean up the wreckage, but he'd never make the person who caused it leave.

That night, I called a moving van.

My mother's things, my documents, a few boxes of clothes, all sent to the storage unit Linda had helped me arrange.

Karl stood in the doorway, thinking I was only afraid Silvia would touch those things again, and even taped the last box shut for me himself.

After the van pulled away, I went back to the empty guest room and opened the reinstatement page.

No hesitation.

I pressed confirm.