The Secret in My Husband’s Glove Compartment Destroyed Our Two Years Chapter 10
“If you don’t want to hear this, you can hang up
now.”
Ten months after the divorce, I got a call from an
unfamiliar number.
I recognized William’s voice. Paused for a
moment.
“What is it?”
“I sold the car.”
“Okay.”
“Before I sold it, I opened the glove compartment
one last time.”
“It was empty.”
“Camilla. I used to think of it as a place you just
weren’t allowed to touch.”
“Now I understand that what was in there wasn’t
medicine.”
“It was every lie I ever told you.”
I didn’t respond.
By the window, a small pot of pasta was boiling.
The timer had two minutes left.
William asked, “Are you doing okay now?”
“Fine.”
“Do you still get cramps?”
“Sometimes.”
“Remember to take something for it.”
“I’ll take care of myself well.”
“I know.”
He paused for a long time.
“Leona’s parents covered the remaining
twenty–one thousand. Her house is listed for sale
too.”
“You don’t have to tell me this.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know every sum
transferred from the joint account is settled.”
“Got it.”
“I won’t bother you again.”
“Thank you.”
The timer went off right as the call ended.
I dished out the pasta and fried an egg to go with
- it.
After moving to Rookhaven, I’d learned how to
plan my own weekends and to remember
important dates on my own.
I used to be afraid that eating alone would feel
lonely.
Now I know that real loneliness is sitting beside
the person you love and never getting a response.
A reminder popped up on my phone calendar.
Today used to be my wedding anniversary with
William.
I didn’t delete it.
I just opened the edit and changed the title.
“Camilla’s first year of starting over.”
After I saved it, Sloane’s video call came through.
“Getting used to the new place?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to grab dinner tonight?”
“No. I just made pasta.”
“Doesn’t it feel weird spending your anniversary
alone?”
“It’s not an anniversary day anymore.”
I turned the phone around and showed her the
new reminder.
Sloane laughed.
“That’s a good date.”
“I think so too.”
“Will you date again?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you want to do most right now?”
I picked up my fork, blew on the steam.
“Have my dinner first.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll decide when I wake up.”