I went to the coffee table and poured out that glass of plain water.
Then I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet.
Half of it was Neal's clothes.
I took out the things that were mine, one piece at a time.
On the dresser sat the frame from our eighth anniversary.
In the photo, Neal had his arm around my shoulders, grinning wide.
I slid the picture out and dropped it in the trash can beside me.
The drawer was full of little odds and ends, gifts he'd given me over the years.
I swept all of it into a garbage bag.
By the time I finished, it was two in the morning.
The phone screen lit up.
A message from Neal.
“Georgie's asleep. I'm staying here with her tonight.”
“Send me next month's medical bill for your mom in the morning. I'll have finance wire it.”
I looked at the message.
Then I pulled the black supplementary card out of my wallet.
Neal had given it to me two years ago.
He'd said he would cover my adoptive mother's care to the end.
That card had held me captive for two years.
It had held captive every single thought I'd had about leaving.
When I cut it in half, I realized the chain that had held me for two years gave way with the smallest, softest sound.
I didn't reply to him.
Outside the window, the night spread out, soft and quiet.
I zipped the suitcase shut, leaned back against the bed, and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow.
It would all be over.
Nine the next morning.
There weren't many people outside the courthouse.
The early-autumn wind had a chill to it, and I pulled my coat tighter.
A black car stopped at the curb.
The door opened, and Graham Fox stepped out.
He wore a clean white shirt, glasses resting on his nose.
There was something gentle and unhurried about him.
“Have you been waiting long?”
He came up to me and took the suitcase without a word, as if it were the most natural thing.
“Just got here.”
I looked at him, and something warm stirred in me.
Graham was my adoptive mother's attending physician.
And the only person at the hospital I'd really been able to talk to these past few years.
Yesterday, after I learned Neal had no intention of getting the marriage license.
I'd sat alone on the bench in the hospital hallway, and for a moment everything had blurred.
Graham had handed me a cup of hot cocoa.
“Sonia, if all you need is a marriage certificate to put your mother's mind at ease, I can help.”
I'd thought he was joking.
But his eyes were serious.
“You don't have to answer right away. And you don't have to feel like you owe me anything.”
“As it happens, I could use a marriage too, to get my family off my back about settling down.”
“We can sign a prenup. Each of us gets what we need. And if it makes you uncomfortable, just pretend I never said it.”
I said yes.
Because I'd run out of time to keep waiting on Neal.
My adoptive mother's condition was getting worse, and her one great wish was to see me married.
“Let's go in.”
Graham gave a gentle smile and pushed the glass door open for me.
The process moved fast.
Forms, photos, the vows.
The official seal came down on the red booklet.
I looked at the two people in the photo, and for a moment everything blurred again.
Graham handed me one of the booklets, the faintest smile in his eyes.
“Sonia. Congratulations on the marriage.”
He paused, then added, softly,
“And if you don't mind, from now on I could call you Mrs. Fox.”
I took the certificate, and the breath I'd been holding finally eased out of me.
“Thank you, Graham.”
We walked out of the courthouse.
The phone in my bag started buzzing.
I took it out and glanced at the screen.
Neal.
I pressed answer.
His voice came through at once, tight with barely held anger.
“Sonia, where the hell did you go?”
