Chapter 3

I returned the coat on my lunch break the next day. The woman at the counter checked the receipt and asked whether anything was wrong with it. "No. It just isn't needed anymore." She lifted it from the box. I had spent two evenings comparing sizes because Aaron's mother said she hated sleeves that stopped above her wrists. I knew her measurements. I knew which perfume gave her a headache and which brand of coffee she wanted at the cabin. She had never asked what I liked for Christmas breakfast. The clerk handed me the return receipt. I folded it once and put it in my bag. Back in the car, I called my mother. For three years, we had been saying we would spend the next Christmas together. Then Aaron's parents would arrange another gathering, and I would tell her we would come in January instead. "What are you doing for Christmas?" I asked. "Your aunt's coming over. Why?" "I was thinking about you." "Are you all right, sweetheart?" I pressed my lips together until I could answer without crying. "I'll call you tonight." I couldn't tell her yet. I knew she would ask why Aaron wasn't staying with me, and I had no explanation that would make him sound like a man who loved her daughter. That afternoon, Mara found me in the office kitchen with my lunch untouched. She had worked beside me for six years. She knew the cabin existed. She knew how many Mondays I arrived tired from a weekend everyone else described as relaxing. "What's happened?" I told her enough to get the words out. The invitation. The towels. Aaron getting into the car after his mother reminded me to pack for the extra guest. Mara sat down across from me. "Do you want to come to my place on Christmas Eve?" There was no suggestion that I should understand his mother, no request to hear Aaron's side before she offered me a chair. I covered my eyes with one hand. "I need somewhere to live." She waited while I took a breath. "Not just for Christmas." Mara helped me find a furnished apartment near work. I viewed it after my shift and paid the deposit from my savings. The gift refunds would cover some moving expenses and leave one less balance on my credit card. The apartment had a small bedroom and a kitchen with two mismatched stools. I stood beside the empty refrigerator while the manager showed me where to put the trash. There was no tree. No smell of Aaron's coffee. No collection of shoes I would move aside with my foot every evening. I had spent years making our home comfortable. Choosing another one felt so painful that I had to sit in the car before I could drive back. When I got home, Aaron was eating the leftovers I had packed for his lunch. "Where were you?" "I had something to take care of." He nodded toward a parcel beside the door. "Mom's asking whether that's her coat." "No." "Did it arrive?" "I returned it." His fork stopped. "Why would you do that? She picked it out." "I picked out a Christmas with my husband. Apparently, neither of us is getting what we wanted." "You don't have to be cruel because you're upset." I looked at the dinner plate in front of him. He had warmed enough food for himself. "I'm tired, Aaron. I don't want to argue about your mother's coat tonight." I went upstairs before he could tell me again how difficult I was making everything. The cabin bill was waiting in my email. December winter maintenance and fuel: $400. Payment required to confirm winter service. I had paid the previous month's bill from this same bed while Aaron slept beside me. The December rent was already settled. This was the remaining payment I usually made without anyone asking. I forwarded the bill to Aaron and his mother. Please handle this month's maintenance payment. I won't be arranging the Christmas stay. Aaron replied from downstairs, where I could still hear the television. Don't start doing this with bills now. We'll talk when I come up. I left the payment page closed. A second message arrived, this one from the apartment manager. Your key will be ready on December 22.