Every trace of her taste was gone. I’d stripped the place down to bare walls a month after she left and rebuilt it piece by piece. Not to erase her, just to remember myself. “You redecorated,” she said, like I’d committed a crime. “Turns out I have decent taste when I’m not being corrected every 5 minutes.” She ignored that and sat down on the couch.
My couch, the one she’d never seen before. I stayed standing. I know things ended badly, she said carefully. Badly. I let out a short laugh. You told me I was boring. You told me you felt trapped. You told me you needed someone who lived on the edge. She shifted. Good. I was emotional, she said.
People say things they don’t mean. No, I replied. You said exactly what you meant. She looked up at me then. You don’t understand what I went through after I left. and you don’t understand something important, I said. This isn’t your house anymore. She frowned. What do you mean? I told her to check the deed.
Her name had been removed the day after she left. Same with the accounts, insurance, everything. Her face drained of color. You can’t do that without telling me. I sent the paperwork to your mother’s address. You never responded. She stood up slowly, recalculating. Whatever plan she’d rehearsed was unraveling fast. I came here to explain what happened with Derek. She said that of course she did.
Derek, the man who rode motorcycles, jumped off cliffs, and made a living turning danger into applause. The man who was everything I wasn’t supposed to be. I saw the news, I said. Her jaw tightened. Pool accident, I added. Big party, bad outcome. It’s more complicated than that. she said. “I’m sure it is,” I replied.
“But here’s the thing. I don’t care.” She stepped closer. Desperation cracked the surface. “He can’t work anymore,” she said. “The bills are overwhelming.” “I thought maybe.” “You thought you could come back? I finished for her.” Silence. “You really think I’m that pathetic?” “I think you’re a good man,” she said softly. “You keep your word.
