Parting At The End Of The Blizzard Chapter 2

I saved the recordings one by one. After that, I got up and went back to the bedroom.

May was already asleep. The invisible line that had divided our bed for the past seven years was still there, as firmly established as ever.

On our wedding night seven years ago, May told me that she could not tolerate physical intimacy and that being touched by a man made her deeply uncomfortable.

I suggested that we each stay on our own side of the bed, simply because I wanted her to feel comfortable.

For seven years, I had lain right beside that invisible boundary, perfectly content just to look at May as she slept.

I had always believed that as long as we loved each other, there was nothing wrong with having a platonic marriage.

Perhaps sensing me watching her, May stirred and rubbed her sleepy eyes. “Why are you still awake?” she asked impatiently.

I ignored the question. Unable to keep the faint tremor from my voice, I asked her softly, “May, is there anything you want to tell me?”

All I got in response was, “What’s wrong with you?”

I smiled bitterly. For the first time in seven years, I walked out of our bedroom and headed for the guest room next door.

Perhaps May had grown so accustomed to me always giving in to her that she did not think anything of it. She just drifted back to sleep.

The next morning, I walked out of the guest room to find a man sitting in the dining room.

It was the man from the recordings.

Just then, May came out of the kitchen with a bright smile on her face. She looked at him and said gently, “Breakfast’s ready. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

I glanced toward the dining table. It was covered with an elaborate breakfast spread. There were scrambled eggs, pancakes, toast, pastries, fruits, and more.

In seven years together, I had never even known May could cook or bake, much less that she was so good at it.

May walked over and took the man’s hand as naturally as if she had done it a thousand times. Then, she seemed to finally sense my presence.

She turned to me abruptly. When she saw me, a flicker of guilt crossed her face. “Oh, I forgot to introduce you. This is my… new assistant, Damian Sullivan. He came over to brief me on some work.

“Anyway, why don’t you join us for breakfast?”

I sat down silently and reached for my fork, but my hand stopped before I touched the food.

May, who had been busy piling food onto Damian’s plate, noticed and immediately looked annoyed.

She snapped, “What is it now? Can’t you even get through one meal without making a fuss?”

My gaze grew solemn. Looking into May’s eyes, my voice was hoarse as I said, “I’m lactose intolerant. Almost everything here was made with milk, butter, or cheese.”

I pushed back my chair and got up to leave.

Then, a thought stopped me. I turned back to May.

For once, I looked at her in complete seriousness as I asked, “May, is there anything you want to tell me?”

This time, May slammed her fork down on the table. Her voice rose in anger.

“Harry, what’s your problem now? Can you act like a man for once? Don’t you have anything better to do with your life?

“What exactly am I supposed to say to you? What could we possibly have to talk about? When was the last time you had anything worth saying? Take a good look at yourself.

“Do you honestly think anyone besides me would even bother talking to you?”

One simple question had earned me a barrage of insults and contempt.

I smiled bitterly.

I turned and walked into the study. Behind me, Damian said something I could not make out. May’s voice immediately softened.

It was a tenderness she had never once shown me.

I opened a drawer and pulled out an old phone I had not used in years. I called my friend Ed Maude.

“Well, look who finally remembered I exist! I thought you were too busy revolving around your wife to call me.”

Ed teased me the moment he answered.

I shook my head with a bitter smile and glanced at the small potted rose on my desk. I had not even noticed when it had withered. “I was wrong, Ed. I need a favor. Please draw up divorce papers for me.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Ed said quietly, almost in disbelief, “You two are getting divorced?”

I found myself looking at the withered rose again. When had the flowers I once associated with our love started dying?