4: 4
4
I dragged the box out of the water.
The bottom had already gone soft.
The stack of manuscript pages at the very bottom was soaked through, the ink spreading along the grain of the paper.
A few photocopies of old journals had stuck together, ready to crumble at the slightest pull.
Neal rushed in.
He saw the water all over the floor, but the first thing out of his mouth was,
"Where's Nadia's sample?"
I held the box and didn't turn around.
Nadia stood in the doorway and said quietly, "Mine are all in the front hall. They didn't get wet."
Neal visibly relaxed.
Director Donaldson apologized over and over.
"The pipe was old, nobody could have predicted this. We'll compensate you!"
Neal looked at me.
"Whatever it costs, I'll take care of it."
I asked, "And what exactly are you going to compensate me for?"
He stopped.
I pulled a page out of the box.
The notes on it had already blurred into a smear.
"I spent two years digging up these materials. Can you get that back?"
"The first chance to appear at a showcase under my own name. Can you give me that again?"
"These originals exist in only one copy. What do you plan to pay me back with?"
Neal's expression shifted slightly.
"Willow, I didn't know these couldn't just be reprinted."
"Of course you didn't."
He didn't know how many old newspapers I'd combed through just to pin down a single word.
Didn't know how many nights I'd stayed up sorting the missing chapters.
Didn't know I'd been waiting all this time for my name to appear on a cover.
He didn't even know what it was I actually did.
Nadia rubbed her wrist.
Neal steadied her at once.
"It's too damp in here. You go on out first."
Nadia didn't move.
She looked at the manuscript in my arms, her eyes going a little red.
"I'm sorry, sis. How about I give you back the main booth? Your manuscript may be wet, but putting it out there would at least let everyone know you did all this."
Neal frowned.
"You don't have to make yourself suffer for it."
Nadia said in a low voice, "But she really does look so upset."
Only then did Neal turn to me.
"She's willing to back down this far. Stop holding on to it."
I looked at him.
"Back down from what?"
"She's willing to give you the booth."
I couldn't help laughing.
"Setting out a pile of waterlogged pages for a showcase, and you think that's helping me?"
He didn't answer.
My mother's call came through at just that moment.
I picked up and put it on speaker.
"Willow, are you causing a scene at the fair again? Your sister has a partnership to negotiate today. Don't ruin it for her."
I said, "Mom, my manuscript is destroyed."
The line went quiet for a second.
"Destroyed, so redo it!
"You only do translation, it's not like you wrote the original!
"Your sister's deal this time is tied to the growth of her personal brand. Nothing can go wrong with it."
Neal stood there beside me and didn't say a word.
I hung up.
Outside, the panel was still going.
Someone was praising how Nadia's new series had a real sense of story to it.
Someone said it was rare that Neal, who traveled to so many countries, still remembered to gather materials for her.
Neal reached out to take the box.
"Put it down first. Don't let the reporters get a shot of it."
I dodged his hand.
"What are you afraid they'll get a shot of?"
"Today isn't the time to get emotional."
"Then when is?"
He fell silent.
I carried the sodden manuscript toward the front hall.
In the glass case, that travel journal sat in the most prominent spot.
Nadia's name was printed on the light-up sign.
My name should have been here too.
The reporters noticed me quickly.
The cameras swung around.
Neal caught up and gripped my wrist.
"Come home with me."
I looked down at his hand.
In six years, I'd waited for him so many times.
Waited for him to come back from a trip.
Waited for him to hear me out on one thing.
Waited for him, caught between me and Nadia, to ask me first, just once.
Now I didn't want to wait anymore.
I pulled my hand back, slipped off my wedding ring, and set it in his palm.
"Neal."
His expression finally changed.
I said, "Let's get a divorce."
