1: 1
Barely a month into our marriage, Russ Delgado's heartbroken childhood friend moved into the building next to ours.
I'd been caught in the rain and come down with a fever, so I asked Russ to pour me a cup of warm water and find me something to bring it down.
He glanced at his phone, sat straight up, and grabbed his jacket.
I thought he was going to get me medicine. Instead he leaned in close and said,
"Sylvie, Rosalind's home alone. She texted that she's scared of the thunder, her milk's gone cold and she's too afraid to go downstairs and heat it. I'm going to go sit with her for a bit."
My voice was hoarse.
"I have a fever."
He paused, reached out and gave my forehead a careless touch, his tone offhand.
"You're fine, not that hot. The medicine's in the drawer in the living room. Get up and find it yourself, and drink lots of warm water."
"Rosalind's been scared of thunder since she was little, and she just went through a breakup. She can't handle it on her own."
"She's a grown woman. She doesn't have the energy to go down and heat up some milk?"
His brows drew together.
"How can you be so difficult? You know how skittish she is. Did you forget last time, when the thunder scared her so badly she ended up in the hospital? You just tough it out when you catch a cold or run a fever. She's different."
With that, he slammed the door and left.
I lay in bed, opened the app, and pulled up the order for our Iceland honeymoon.
When I submitted the cancellation, a line of red text popped up.
Deposit of $50,000. Non-refundable once confirmed.
My finger didn't stop. I tapped confirm.
This trip I'd looked forward to for two years, and this man—I didn't want either of them anymore.
1
After I took the medicine, I lay down right there on the floor and slept through the night.
At first light the living room door sounded, and I dragged myself up.
Russ was back.
There was an insulated bag in his hand, stamped with the logo of a porridge shop.
I thought he'd brought breakfast for me, and I started toward him to take it.
The next second, he walked straight to the entryway to change his shoes and set the bag down on the cabinet with great care.
"You're up? Good, let me tell you now. This is the low-sugar pumpkin soup I got for Rosalind. She's not awake yet, so I'll leave it here and take it over later. Don't open it."
I sat on the couch, kneading my numb calves.
"So what do I eat?"
He blinked, like it only just occurred to him.
"Oh, I forgot. The sandwich place downstairs is open. Go down and grab yourself a couple."
"You don't like sweet soup anyway, right? Works out fine."
Normally, no, I don't like sweet soup.
But I'd been out in the rain yesterday, and I was running a fever. I couldn't eat anything cold or hard.
I couldn't take the medicine on an empty stomach either. Aside from the soup, I had no other option.
I said nothing and watched him pick up his phone.
His finger tapped away at the screen, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.
I leaned over for a look.
It was the notes app.
He was making Rosalind a "rainy-day comfort checklist."
Warm milk had to be 45 degrees.
The night light went on the left side of the bed.
Lavender scent for the diffuser, not too strong.
When it thundered, stay on the phone with her until she fell asleep.
And the honeymoon checklist I'd sent him last month, the one I'd stayed up three nights writing—
he hadn't answered a single word of it.
I picked up the mug he'd left on the coffee table. There was a little smear of milk on the side.
It was the mug he'd used before he went out, when he heated Rosalind's milk.
The couple's mug he'd given me for my birthday.
He saw me staring at it, reached over and took it, his tone casual.
"You barely use it anyway. Her cup broke yesterday and she hasn't bought a new one. I can't have her taking her medicine with cold water, can I? She'll just borrow it for now."
I laughed.
"That's a couple's mug."
His brows knit, and he set the cup down hard on the table.
"Can you not make such a big deal out of everything? It's one cup. I'll buy you ten later."
"She's a young girl who just got dumped, with no one around to look after her. Can't you have a little compassion?"
Again with this.
Always she's young, she's pitiful, she needs to be taken care of.
I'm sensible, I'm strong, so I deserve to be overlooked.
Even minding one mug means I have no compassion.
