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* * *
His pity hits in a way that hurts. I step back, out of his embrace, and turn to my bag. I try to laugh, and it comes out strangled. “It’s fair, Nathan.” I stuff my makeup bag into the duffel. “We both knew what this was.”
* * *
I don’t ask him why he is taking her back. I don’t ask him if he struggled with the decision, if I entered his head, if I was ever anything more than a pawn in the Get Cecile Back Game. I don’t ask the questions, because I am afraid of the answers. I am afraid of more pity, afraid of kind words, and afraid of the truth.
* * *
Instead, I pick up my bag, and flash him a smile that would have made Rosit Fucking Fenton beam with pride. I smile, I wave, and I walk out of his life.
CHAPTER 53
Mark pulls up my car, idling it next to a bright white Maserati that must be hers. He steps out, and pops open the trunk. “Where are you headed?”
* * *
I blink at Mark’s questions. Where indeed? I stepped out the front door intending to go home, but where is home? I haven’t missed a single part of the life I deserted.
* * *
“Oh.” Mark dips back into the car, and pulls out my old purse. “This is yours.”
* * *
I unzip the purse and peek inside, pulling out my old cell phone. There is a new charger for it in the purse, a bit of thoughtfulness from Mark. I wonder how long ago he purchased the charger, how long he has been expecting to return my items and send me on my way. I turn on the phone, the battery charged, and scroll through numbers, each one a reminder of how sad and empty my old life was. I don’t want to reconnect with any of them, and I’m pretty sure the emotion goes both ways. I turn it off, and push it back inside.
* * *
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “But thank you for all of your help.”
* * *
We hug, an awkward move between two strangers, and then I am in the Mercedes, watching the gates open, and exiting this life.
* * *
At the first gas station, I pull over, putting the car into park and re-opening the purse. Pulling out the contents, I examine foreign objects from a life I barely recognize. A sequined thong, the color garish, material rough, its cheap fabric causing me to wince in recollection of how far I had fallen in life. A tube of blood red Maybelline lipstick. Mascara. Tic Tacs. The keys to my house, my car.
* * *
There is an envelope, the handwriting on the front neat and tidy. Not Nathan’s. I open it, sliding out a plain white card and a thick wad of bills.
* * *
Candace,
The items from your house are in a storage unit in Destin, the rent is paid through the end of the year, and the address is below. Doris is the manager; she can provide you with a key. Your car was sold, the cash from the sale added to your departure funds, which are enclosed. You will need to arrange payment for your cell phone; we have covered that bill during your time with Nathan. I will call you once the paperwork is in place for the divorce. Please do not change your phone number; we will need to stay in contact with you until this process is complete. After that, there will be no need for future contact.
Mark
* * *
I read the note twice, surprised at the coldness I feel in its parting. There will be no need for future contact. I don't know what I expected. An invite to their wedding? Baby showers?
* * *
I flip through the cash, counting it—fourteen thousand, five hundred dollars. Generous considering my Accord couldn’t have fetched more than a thousand dollars. Skimpy considering that our marriage earned Nathan so much.
* * *
I return the cash to the envelope and place it, and the cell phone, in the glove box. Rolling down the window, I pull up to a trash can and drop the purse, and all of its contents, into the can.
* * *
Then I pull out, and head to my father.
* * *
Dad is doing well, his improvement holding steady, which only means he is toeing the right side of death’s line. I sit and hold his hand, my heart lifting when he opens his eyes and smiles at me.
* * *
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
* * *
“It’s not Wednesday,” he says in confusion.
* * *
I smile. “No. I’ll be here more often now. I’ll explain it later. Go to sleep.”
* * *
I need his sleep. I need to look over and see him in serenity while I make sense of the fucked up reality that is my new life. I feel Pam at my side and look up.
