I met an attorney.

***

By Friday, the divorce petition had been filed. The papers would be formally delivered to Mason later.

I took a copy home.

That night, while Mason watched television, I entered the spare room that still held our imagined future.

I opened the closet and pulled out an empty gift box.

I placed the baby-name notebook, paint samples, appointment cards, and tiny socks inside. I held the socks until my hands stopped shaking.

I took a copy home.

Misha had sent me screenshots of the messages she'd shown me. I printed them and placed them beneath the socks.

At the bottom, I added a copy of the divorce petition.

On top, I placed a handwritten note:

"You were allowed to choose a child-free life.

You weren't allowed to steal five years of mine."

Advertisement

I closed the lid and wrapped the box.

"You were allowed to choose a child-free life."

Then I called Elaine.

For years, I'd mistaken Elaine's pity for concern. Now I knew Mason had shaped what she saw.

"Can you and Robert come for dinner on Sunday?"

"Oh," Elaine said brightly. "Is there a special reason, honey?"

"I want everyone together."

"Should I bring anything? Dessert, maybe?"

"Is there a special reason, honey?"

"Just yourselves."

"We'll be there."

I called Misha next.

"Did you invite them?"

"Yes."

"Do you still want me there?"

"I need you there because Mason will try to rewrite this."

Advertisement

For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *