In the end, he didn't so much as glance at me.
I knew I wasn't pretty. A face that ran a little round, still soft with baby fat, awkward no matter how I looked at it.
Once my hair was dyed forest green, the stylist laughed.
"Hey, gorgeous, I have to say, this color really suits you. Like a witch of the woods."
My smile came out worse than crying. "Does it? Maybe… this is the real me."
Not like Doris Swanson, who just had to stand there and the whole air around her went delicate and soft and lovely.
I went to the mall next door and bought a comfortable set of casual clothes.
When the salesgirl asked what to do with the dress, I said, "Throw it out."
It was just one of the things I'd bought guessing at what Kenneth might like. He didn't like it, and I didn't either. No use keeping it.
Back home, I emptied out more than half my closet—what could be given away, given away; what should be tossed, tossed.
I was still at it past six in the evening when Kenneth came back from the office.
He looked a little surprised to see me carrying bags out to throw away.
"It's the middle of the evening. What are you doing? I thought you loved that dress."
I kept my head down. "I don't anymore. So I'm throwing it out."
"That color on your hair…"
"It suits the mood."
"…"
He didn't press.
Coming in, he saw the dining table was bare.
"You…"
That was when I remembered I hadn't cooked.
"Sorry, I'm a little tired today. Let me order you some delivery."
His eyes settled on me.
"Don't bother. I'm not hungry."
He turned and went into the guest room.
As we passed each other, a faint scent of gardenia drifted off him.
That was Doris Swanson's scent.
Warm water came down from the showerhead.
Kenneth leaned against the bathroom wall, his head full of the image of Lorraine straddling his lap the night before.
He admitted there'd been a reaction. Those ten ginseng tonic pills hadn't been for nothing.
But what bothered him more was that he kept going back to that kiss.
Shameful, and somehow restless with it.
He soaped himself absently, one ear on the sounds outside the whole time.
Half an hour passed, and Lorraine never came in.
He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and decided he must be losing his mind.
How could he be hoping she'd come in and kiss him again.
It wasn't as if he even liked her.
He rinsed off the suds, pulled on a robe, and walked out.
A little thirsty, he told himself. He just wanted a glass of water from the kitchen.
But in the living room the lights were all off.
That was when he saw that Lorraine had already gone to sleep.
Something about it left him uneasy, and he turned and went back to the bedroom.
That night, he dreamed of the study, of Lorraine straddling his lap—and he didn't push her away…
The next morning when I woke, there was breakfast on the table.
Kenneth had cooked, which he rarely did. Seeing me, he smiled faintly. "You're up? You'd had some wine yesterday, so I made you a bowl of warm oatmeal to settle your stomach."
I gave a quiet hum.
Just as my heart started to ease a little, I saw the text again.
【Damn, what's going on? Mr. Farley actually made breakfast for the ex-wife?】
【No way—it's because he heard yesterday that our precious Doris has a bad stomach, and he wants to learn how to make soothing porridge. He's just practicing on the ex-wife.】
【I'm telling you, she looks like she's about to cry. She's not going to misread this as him liking her again, is she?】
【So shameless. Looking like that, no self-awareness at all, and still throwing herself at him.】
The more they cursed me, the colder I went inside.
I drank the porridge in silence.
Kenneth ate his sandwich, watching me from the corner of his eye. "Is it good?"
I hummed. "It's good."
When he makes it for Doris Swanson later, she'll probably like it.
I picked up the bowl and chopsticks and went into the kitchen, never noticing that behind me, Kenneth's gaze stayed fixed on me the whole time.
