Took a test. Negative.
Dots dance quickly across the screen as he types a response.
James
I’m sorry.
I give him a minute to follow it up with another text, but none comes. Raw hurt builds in my chest. As comfort goes, it’s insufficient. Pathetically, miserably insufficient. But what did I expect? I got what I wanted—a husband who doesn’t have feelings for me. That’s the kind of comfort I can expect from an indifferent man.
I force myself to walk into the kitchen for a glass of water, when a tiny thud sounds outside. Then another, and another, and the apartment’s wrap-around windows come alive with pounding rain.
Hugging my oversized shirt around me, I slowly move to the glass balcony doors so I can watch the raindrops ricochet off the wood outside. It’s probably freezing out there, but some part of me longs to open the door and walk out into the storm.
“Screw it,” I mutter.
I yank open the door before I can talk myself out of it. The slanting rain feels like blunted needles against my skin, sharp but harmless. My bare feet turn icy and shriveled, and in moments my shirt and leggings are soaked through and clinging to my skin. The heavy screen of rain makes the city around mefuzzy and distant, like I’m in a snow globe where it’s just me, all alone on this balcony.
Smiling, I turn my face up to the sky and let the freezing water wash away my morbid thoughts. How can I worry about time slipping away when in this moment, I feel soalive?
Victor always scolded me for doing things like this—walking out into storms, dancing to music when nobody else was, lying under a tree in the park until my clothes were covered in grass stains. He never understood how close death has always felt, like a fog surrounding me, lingering and smothering. Sometimes I just need a shock to my system to chase it away.
“Maura! Maura, come inside!”
I blink. Who just penetrated my bubble of solitude?
When I turn around, I see James standing in the doorway, wearing his usual tailored suit and a frown. A laugh bubbles out of me. Of course my rational, controlled husband would come find me out here at my most chaotic.
“Get back inside, Maura!” he yells. “It’s freezing! You’re going to catch your fucking death out here.”
I laugh again, this time more wildly, because I can’t help it. A little cold rain won’t kill me. My heart’s tried to do it for years and failed, so a sudden storm doesn’t stand a chance.
“No!” I yell back impulsively. “You come out here.”
“Maura,” he says again. Under the word:Be reasonable. Be smart. Come inside and be safe.
Well, I don’t want safe—not now.
“Come out here and feel the rain with me, James!”
He looks at me like I’m the most irritating, impossible woman he’s ever met. “Why?”
“Does there have to be a reason?” I yell over the pounding rain. “Do you have to be so goddamnefficientevery second of the day? Just do it!”
“No.” His tone brokers no argument.
I cross my arms, annoyed. “Well, I'm not coming back inside until you walk out here with me.”
“That's childish.”
“And yet it's working.” I gesture at the rain streaming around me. “Clock's ticking, James. Your wife is getting hypothermia.”
“Manipulation,” he says flatly. “That's what this is.”
“Is it manipulation if I announce it? I feel like that's just…negotiation.”
He stares at me for a moment, his blue gaze inscrutable. After a long moment, he walks out to join me.
I watch while the water soaks into his hair, turning it even darker. It takes a little longer for the rain to seep into his heavy, expensive wool suit. His fists are clenched, his full mouth rigid and tight while he stares at me, displeasure radiating from him.
