Chapter 3

The rain finally stopped, though the sky stayed gray.

I sat at the computer in the study and typed the last line of the divorce agreement. The terms were simple. I gave up the house, the cars, and every share Graham held in Renn & Ashby. I'd walk away with nothing.

The printer pushed out two pages, still warm. I signed at the bottom.

Nora Bowen.

Not his last name.

It had been five days since the diagnosis. The dose of painkillers kept going up, and the hours I stayed clearheaded kept getting shorter. I didn't have time to waste anymore.

I pulled out a black suitcase and started packing.

There wasn't much that was mine, really. A few changes of clothes, some art supplies, and the old photos my mother left me. The designer bags, the expensive jewelry, everything Graham had ever bought me, I left where it was.

At the dresser, I stopped. I opened the bottom drawer and took out a velvet box. Inside was the two-hundred-dollar secondhand wedding ring.

Graham bought it ten years ago from a pawn shop in Brooklyn. That night he got down on one knee in our leaky basement and looked up at me. He held that box for a long time before he could get it open, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Nora, once I make some money, I'm buying you the biggest diamond out there."

He did make the money. And he did buy the diamond. It's just hanging around another woman's neck now.

I slid the ring off my finger. Ten years of wearing it had left a deep groove in the skin.

I put it back in the box, set the box on the coffee table next to the signed agreement, right where he couldn't miss it.

When I was done, I sat on the couch for a while. I felt empty, but it didn't hurt.

At two in the afternoon I wheeled my suitcase out of the house I'd decorated myself.

I didn't take a car. Graham had paid for both of them, so I left the keys on the hall table.

I called a cab, stopped at the bank, and pulled out what little savings I had in my own account. Then I went to the phone store and canceled the number I'd used for ten years.

"Ma'am, are you sure? You've got a lot of accounts tied to this number. Once we cancel it, there's no getting it back." The clerk sounded like she was trying to help.

"I'm sure." I smiled and nodded.

I wasn't going to need it back. Whatever was still tied to that number, I had no use for any of it.

From there I went out to Alder House, in the suburbs. Dr. Lindstrom had set it up for me.

There was no smell of disinfectant. Someone had put a pot of lavender at the end of the hallway. Best of all, nobody there looked at me with pity. They just stayed with me.

I paid in cash.

While I was filling out the paperwork, a nurse asked, "Ma'am, who should we put down as your emergency contact?"

My hand stopped over the line.

I didn't have any family left in this world. The one person who used to count was sitting in a hospital somewhere, worrying about someone else's child.

"Nobody," I said, and drew an X through the line.

The nurse gave me a surprised look, but she didn't ask.

My room was on the second floor, with a thick stand of fir trees outside the window. There was a single bed, a rocking chair, and a small desk. That was plenty.

I pushed my suitcase into the closet and sat down in the rocking chair to watch the light go out of the sky.

The ache in my stomach started up again. I took two more pills, the way I did everything now, without thinking about it, and closed my eyes.

Goodbye, Graham. I hope you get everything you want.

Across town, at the firm, Graham sat at his desk rubbing the space between his eyebrows.

He hadn't been home in two days. Whitney's son had come down with pneumonia and he'd spent two nights at the hospital with them. He'd only just gotten away to deal with something urgent at the office.

He couldn't settle down that day. He'd redone the same drawing three times, and it came out wrong every time.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number out of habit. He expected what he always got, Nora sounding cold, or Nora complaining. He already had his lines ready. He'd brush her off with a few words and tell her he had to stay at the hospital again tonight.

Instead, a recorded voice came on.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

Graham stared at the phone.

Not in service? Nora had used that number for ten years. Her bank, her insurance, even the utility bills were tied to it.

He tried again. Same thing.

"What is this, some kind of playing hard to get?" He slammed the phone down on the desk.

He figured she was sulking about the fight two nights ago. He figured if he gave her the cold shoulder for a few days, she'd fold like she always did, cook dinner, and sit on the couch waiting for him to come home.

He picked the phone back up and dialed one more time.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service."