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A Marriage of Convenience Can't Hold Someone Who Wants Romance
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Hoàn thành
The day Duane Sanchez came back to the country, my wife, due to give birth any moment, stayed out all night. At midnight, my childhood friend who runs a wonton place sent me a video. "Percy, isn't tha...
Chương (4)
第1章
The day Duane Sanchez came back from overseas, my wife, due to give birth any moment, never came home all night.
At midnight, my childhood friend who runs the wonton place sent me a video:
"Percy, isn't that your wife with her first love?"
The clip was only ten seconds long.
They sat side by side. Hester Finch blew on a spoonful of wonton and lifted it to Duane's mouth.
"When I'm with you, the very air smells like romance."
Duane swallowed the bite and said with a smile,
"Your husband's not bad either. At least he's steady."
Hester nodded.
"Marriage is just two people making a life work together. Steady has never meant romantic."
I stared at the screen, and suddenly I laughed.
For her birthday I bought her a diamond necklace. She said it was tacky.
For our third anniversary I took her to a fancy steakhouse. She said it was a waste.
So it turned out the romance she wanted had always depended on who was giving it.
With Duane, even a bowl of wonton soup counted as romantic.
Fine. Then I didn't even want to give her the steady part anymore.
1
I hadn't finished the video when my mother-in-law called.
Her voice was shrill enough to hurt: "Percy! Hessie's going into labor! Get to Downtown General right now!"
I glanced at the time. Two thirty in the morning.
Just now, in that video, she'd been sitting in the wonton place, lifting a spoon to Duane's mouth, saying the air smelled like romance.
And now she was giving birth. Giving birth to my child.
My hands shook so badly on the way out that the car keys hit the floor, and I had to bend down three times before I could pick them up.
By the time I ran into the maternity hall, Duane was already standing at the delivery-room door.
He wore a light gray trench coat, both hands in his pockets, his face as calm as a man waiting for a coffee.
"Why are you here?"
"We were just... having a late meal together."
I was about to say something when the delivery-room door opened.
A nurse held out a form, her eyes moving once between the two of us. "Family member needs to sign."
I reached for it.
She paused, glanced down at the clipboard in her hand. "Oh. Sorry, sir. It's already signed."
I looked down at the form.
In the guardian line, three words: Duane's name.
"You signed it?"
"Hessie asked me to."
The delivery-room door opened again, and Hester was wheeled out.
Her face was pale, her hair sweat-soaked and stuck to her forehead, a wrinkled newborn in her arms.
She lifted her head, and her gaze slid past me and landed on Duane first.
Only once she'd confirmed he was still there did she move her eyes to my face.
"You came."
I asked, "Why did he sign in there?"
She frowned, as if I'd asked something I had no business asking.
"I told him to. I was in so much pain I could've died. Wait for you to show up to sign? What if something had gone wrong?"
"Did you call me even once?"
"I was hurting like that. Where would I find the time to call you? Duane's done this before, he—"
I lost my temper. "Done what before?"
Hester turned her face away and said nothing.
My mother-in-law rushed up from behind, shoved me aside, and threw herself at the bedside to look at the baby.
"My precious grandson. Oh, he looks a little like Duane."
Hester looked at me, her expression softening a shade. "Don't read too much into it. You know I was carrying Duane's child before..."
"A baby resembling the mother's ex-boyfriend, there's a medical basis for it. It's called telegony."
My throat came out rough. "I'll head back first."
I reached the elevator when my phone buzzed.
A message from Hester, a long one:
"Percy, I know you're upset."
"But the baby just arrived and needs someone to care for him. Duane looked after kids abroad, he has experience."
"You're a grown man who knows nothing about it. Staying won't help anyway."
"Be reasonable. Once the baby's a little older I'll have him leave. It's all for the baby's sake."
I stared at the screen, my finger frozen over the keys.
She told me to be reasonable. She ate wonton with her first love in the dead of night and called it romance.
She had her first love sign for the birth and called it experience.
She kept her first love by her side and called it all for the baby's sake. Then what was I?
All at once a lot of things came back to me.
The year she ran a high fever, and I carried her on my back through three streets in the middle of the night to the hospital.
She lay against my back, half-conscious with fever, and said one thing: "Percy, you're so good to me."
That was the only time she ever said I was good to her.
Her birthday, when I'd saved three months of pay to buy her a diamond necklace.
She opened it, took one look, said the style was tacky, dropped it in a drawer, and never wore it again.
Our third anniversary, when I booked the most expensive steakhouse in the city ahead of time,
wore the most expensive suit I owned, and waited two hours at the table for her.
She didn't come. Later she said she forgot.
I thought I hadn't done enough. I thought the diamond necklace wasn't expensive enough, the steakhouse wasn't fancy enough, that I wasn't romantic enough.
It turned out that wasn't it.
She didn't not want romance. She just didn't want the romance I gave her.
With Duane, even a single bowl of wonton was romantic.
I put my phone away and looked up at the lights of the maternity building.
All that warm yellow light, and none of it could reach me.
第2章
After the baby was born, everything about the baby seemed to have nothing to do with me.
Duane was the one who went and got the birth certificate; Duane was the one who signed as guardian.
On the one-month checkup form, in the space for emergency contact, it was Duane's name and Duane's number written there too.
That night, my mother-in-law posted to her social media feed.
The photo was Duane sitting on the couch holding the baby, the baby dozing peacefully against his chest.
My mother-in-law and Hester sat on either side of him, both of them laughing happily.
The caption read: "A godfather's more reliable than the real father. Some people can't even mix a bottle of formula and still want to call themselves a dad?"
Below it, dozens of likes.
Hester had liked it, and left a comment too: "Thank you for all your hard work, Duane."
I came across that post while I was eating instant noodles in my rented room.
I'd been living out on my own for almost a month by then. Hester said the house was too crowded, that I should move out for now and we'd figure it out once the baby was older.
The day I moved out, Duane moved in.
I stared at that photo for a long time. Then my phone rang. It was Hester.
"Percival, I've been looking at postpartum care centers. Let's book Serene Moon. The twenty-eight-day package, a hundred twenty-eight thousand."
My throat tightened. "There isn't that much left in my account."
"Don't your parents have their retirement savings? Use that for now. We'll pay them back later."
She said it so lightly.
My voice hardened. "That's my parents' retirement money."
"It's not like we won't pay it back. What matters more, the baby or the money?"
I gripped the phone, and I laid out my condition.
"Hester, if you make Duane leave, I'll pay it. Deal?"
The other end went quiet for a moment.
Then her voice turned cold. "Percival, how can you be so petty?"
"Duane just got back from overseas, he doesn't have any money on him. If you make him leave now, where's he supposed to go?"
"Don't you have any compassion at all?"
I opened my mouth and said nothing.
My wife was aching over another man having no money.
"A hundred twenty-eight thousand. Are you paying or not?"
"No."
Then the line went dead.
My parents' retirement money was what the two of them had saved selling breakfast back in our small hometown, one bowl of orange juice, one bowl of wonton soup at a time.
My mother had a herniated disc, my father had high blood pressure.
Neither of them would spend a cent on a doctor. They said the money was to be saved for me. Hester knew all of this.
That night I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
At half past twelve, my phone rang again.
It was Hester's number, but the voice on the other end wasn't hers.
"Is this Mr. James? Your child has a fever of a hundred and three point six, we're in the emergency room right now..."
I rolled out of bed, bare feet hitting the floor, the cold shooting up from the soles.
"I'm on my way."
第3章
Twenty minutes later, we reached the ER.
The corridor was crowded with parents holding children, the air thick with disinfectant and the smell of vomit.
In the observation area, Duane sat in a chair with the baby in his arms.
One hand cradling the back of the baby's head, the other patting his back in a slow rhythm, he handled him with the ease of a trained postpartum nurse.
The baby lay against his shoulder, half asleep, hiccuping now and then.
He heard my footsteps, looked up at me, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly. "You made it."
Hester came over from the side, her face drawn, her eyes red. "The fever's down a little, but he's still at a hundred and one."
I nodded and walked toward Duane. "Let me hold him."
He didn't move.
The baby lay on his shoulder, little face flushed with fever, breathing heavy.
Duane held the baby out to me,
and the instant he passed him over, the baby broke into a wail that tore through the room.
Not the fussing of a hungry or tired child. This was hysterical, shrieking sobbing.
His tiny face went purple, his legs kicking wildly, crying so hard he couldn't catch his breath.
I froze. My hands hadn't even touched him yet.
My mother-in-law rushed up from behind and shoved me aside. "What are you doing!"
She took the baby, and even in her arms he kept crying.
Hester ran over and checked his arms and legs. She pushed up his clothes and there it was, a red mark on the side of his waist.
Not deep, but on that thin infant skin, glaring.
"Percival James!" She looked up at me, eyes bloodshot, tears welling. "Why did you pinch him? Could you not be more careful?"
"I didn't pinch him."
"So he pinched himself? He's barely a month old, how would he pinch himself?"
I turned to look at Duane. He stood behind Hester, his expression calm, even faintly sorry for me.
He gave a slight shake of his head, as if to say, how could you be so careless.
Then I understood. He'd pinched the baby himself, on the sly.
Made him cry, then pinned it on me.
"Duane, you son of a—"
"Percival." His voice was soft, laced with a sincerity that made me want to hit him. "You're probably just not good at holding a baby yet. It's fine, you'll learn in time."
I glared at him, seething. "You—"
"Enough!"
Hester stood and put herself between me and Duane, shielding him like something precious. "The baby's still burning up. What are you doing, shouting in here?"
My mother-in-law chimed in from the side. "Look at Duane. The baby's perfectly quiet in his arms, and the second he's in your hands he cries."
"A baby can't lie. He knows in his heart who's good to him."
The baby had stopped crying, back in Duane's arms.
He lay against that pale gray trench coat, one little hand gripping Duane's collar, his breathing slowly evening out.
Duane looked down at him and gave the baby's little cheek a soft stroke with his finger.
The picture of it was warm enough to hurt.
Hester was watching that same picture too, and the tears finally spilled from her eyes, but she was smiling. "Duane really does have a way with him."
I turned and walked out of the ER. At the door I looked back once.
Duane was handing the baby into Hester's arms, the two of them leaning close together,
foreheads touching, both gazing down at the small person between them.
A nurse came over to change the dressing and said with a smile, "What a lovely little family you are."
That night I couldn't sleep again. At three in the morning, I came across a post from Hester.
A photo taken at the postpartum care center. Duane holding the baby, seated beside the crib, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him with the city lights spread out below.
On the nightstand sat a bottle and a parenting book.
The caption read: "Finally moved in. With Godpa here, baby sleeps so much more peacefully."
At that same moment, a text came in from the bank: A withdrawal of $128,000 has been made. Balance: $3,264.17.
I stared at that balance for a long time, then turned the phone face down on the nightstand.
In the dark, I heard myself laugh.
That woman, that money, this marriage. I didn't want any of it anymore.
第4章
The day Hester finished her postpartum confinement, I went back to the apartment.
My parents had paid the down payment on this place, and I was the one making the mortgage payments, but the deed was in Hester's name.
I hadn't thought much about it when we got married. Looking back now, maybe I'd already lost right there.
I opened the door, and the smell of braised ribs drifted through the place.
My mother-in-law was busy in the kitchen. She heard the door and leaned out to look.
The second she saw it was me, her face fell, and she ducked back in.
The living room was empty.
I walked to the door of the master bedroom. It stood ajar.
Duane was sitting on the bed, the big bed Hester and I bought when we married, with our wedding photo still on the nightstand.
He leaned back against the headboard, one leg propped on the edge of the mattress,
a phone in his hand, scrolling through something.
He heard the door and looked up at me.
"You're back?" His tone was casual, like he was the one who owned the place.
I stood in the doorway and didn't go in. "Where's Hester?"
"In the shower." He set the phone down, folded his hands behind his head, glanced around the room, and let his eyes settle on my face.
"You've had it rough these past few days. The baby cries at night, Hessie can't manage on her own, so I moved in. Easier to help out."
I laughed. "You. Living in my master bedroom?"
He looked at me, his eyes calm, like he was waiting for me to blow up.
I walked to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open.
My clothes were folded on the left, Hester's on the right.
In the middle hung a few gray shirts, pressed flat and neat. Duane's.
I took my clothes out one by one, folded them, and packed them into the suitcase.
Hester came out of the bathroom just as I was zipping it shut.
She had on a pale yellow set of loungewear, her hair still dripping, a towel in her hand.
When she saw me she froze for a second, then glanced at Duane sitting on the bed.
"Percy, you—"
"I came back to get some things."
She said, "Oh," and sat down at the vanity to dry her hair.
"Duane's staying here a few days. The baby's so little, he cries all night, and I really can't keep up."
"He's got more experience. With him helping, it's easier on me."
"So he's in the master bedroom."
"The guest room isn't made up, and the baby sleeps in here at night anyway, so it's easier for him to help."
She looked at me in the mirror. "Don't read into it."
I zipped the suitcase shut and stood up. "Hester."
She turned her head.
"Do you remember what you said to me on our wedding day?"
She frowned, not expecting me to ask that out of nowhere. "What did I say?"
"You said, from now on this home belongs to the two of us."
Something shifted in Hester's face.
For less than a second. Then it settled back into that calm that made me hate her and ache at the same time.
As I carried the suitcase out of the bedroom, my mother-in-law came out of the kitchen with a plate of braised ribs in her hands.
She saw the suitcase and her mouth twitched. "Leaving? You just settle in out there, and remember to send money home on time."
I didn't answer her.
At the door, I opened the shoe cabinet and found my shoes.
I put them on, took an envelope out of my pocket, and set it on the coffee table.
The divorce papers. Two copies.
I straightened up and looked at the apartment one last time.
The smell of ribs drifted out of the kitchen, my mother-in-law was setting out bowls and chopsticks in the living room,
and from the master bedroom came Duane's voice, low and soft, saying something to the baby.
I carried the suitcase into the elevator, pressed the ground floor, and it began its slow descent.
My phone buzzed. A message from Hester. "What's this you left on the coffee table?"
I replied, "Open it. Remember to sign."