“Adam,” Ally called as she searched the cupboard a short time later. “Where’s my mug—the one you brought me from London?”
“Oh. It, ah, got broken.”
“What a shame! I liked that mug—it was my favorite.” I heard her rummaging a little more. “Where are the other mugs? The ones that went with our dishes? In fact…”
I shut my eyes, knowing what was next. I was ashamed when I thought of my tantrum that day, but I couldn’t take it back.
“…where are the dishes?” She turned around. “All that’s in the cupboards are a bowl and a couple of plastic containers. The only mug is the one we’ve been sharing. Where are the rest of them?”
I tried stalling. “You don’t like sharing a mug with me anymore?”
“Adam.” Her voice held a warning.
I sighed heavily. “I was angry.”
“And?”
“I threw things. Lots of things.”
“You broke all our dishes?”
“Yes.”
“And my mug?”
“I was angry,” I repeated. “I thought you’d left me—left our life behind. I didn’t want any reminders. So I destroyed anything that reminded me of us.”
“Did it make you feel better?”
I shrugged. “Not really.”
She walked around, running her fingers over the walls. “Here?” she asked quietly, tracing a deep hole. “Was this my mug?”
“I think so. Or your keys.”
“Adam …”
“They were on the desk. All your things were gone. I thought you were gone too,” I added, trying to explain my pain and anger.
“I didn’t take them,” she replied.
“No. I assume your mother did. Was my information in your phone?” I asked, more pieces of the puzzle coming together.
“Yes.”
“That explains how she got the address. I guess she decided to make it look like you took your things. Made sure I got the message. Bitch.”
“I’m sorry. She certainly thought of everything.” She tilted her head. “You were hurting.”
“I was. I thought I was going to explode. I didn’t know how to deal with the pain and frustration.”
“So my mug had to suffer.”
I knew she was trying to make me smile.
“It was an honorable death.”
She rested her hand on her hip, a stern expression on her face.