The apartment. I’d forgotten about that. When I’d left everything behind, my mother had come to check on me. She saw me and Naomi living in a cramped, shabby apartment barely fit for two. She couldn’t bear it and bought us a bigger place, a place that could hold a family if we wanted. But Naomi had brushed off the idea of moving in, saying she preferred our small home, that the bigger place felt too cold and empty.
“I’ll put it up for sale tomorrow, Mom,” I said.
After I ended the call, I was just about to take a breath when my phone buzzed again. It was Naomi, her voice sharp and impatient.
“Where are you, Eli? Why aren’t you home?”
I could barely believe the nerve. Here she was, demanding answers from me when she’d been the one ripping everything apart.
“I think it’s better for you to stay at the hospital and keep Ben company, don’t you?”
Her voice dropped, and the calm vanished, replaced by indignation. “Eli, can you stop acting this way? I haven’t done anything wrong! Ben and I only went through a medical procedure. There was no affair; it was just IVF. Can you not make a scene?”
The words didn’t sting like they once would have. I had nothing left to give. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she spoke again.
“Ben’s getting worse, Eli. Tomorrow morning, could you go to the market? Get some lotus root and ribs, and make that stew he likes. He needs it. Just don’t put any onions or garlic in; he’s particular about that. And simmer it for five hours at least. You know, the way he likes.”
I stared at the phone, feeling something colder than anger—a quiet realization. She’d truly started to believe I was nothing but an errand boy, a background to her world. And she didn’t even flinch when she asked for this favor. For him.
As I stayed silent, she sighed heavily, as though it was me who was being difficult. “Why don’t you understand? This is about life and death, Eli. Ben’s last wish is to have a child. This baby is his reason for fighting, for even trying at this point. But instead, you’re over there pouting about pride or whatever this is. Can’t you see the bigger picture?”
I laughed under my breath, empty and hollow, and the irony struck deep. This was who I’d sacrificed for, this woman who looked at me with pity, maybe even contempt.
Unable to even argue anymore, I sent a simple message, “I’ll prepare the divorce papers. We’ll sign tomorrow.”