Chapter 3: The Last Performance

For the next couple of days I carried on with my life; some days the grief was loud and violent, and other days I was able to hide it behind a smile. I learned quickly how to move on with myself.

When Charles returned home three days after Sam’s funeral, I greeted him at the door like nothing had changed. “Welcome back,” I said gently.

He looked surprised for a moment, as if he had expected tears or accusations. Instead, I took his coat.

“Dinner is ready.” I said I had brought the divorce papers the lawyers had drafted and waited for the right moment to present them to him.

At the dining table, Charles spoke about business, a deal closing in Geneva, a board reschedule, meeting his business quarterly projection. While I listened calmly, nodding at the right moments.

All through his conversations he never spoke about our son or how I was feeling, but instead, his phone kept lighting up again and again beside his plate. I already knew who it was; he silenced the phone once.

Twice, and by the third time, he stood up. “I have a call,” he said.

“Of course,” I replied softly.

He didn’t come back to the table; the days that followed blurred together. Charles left early every morning and returned late every night, and sometimes he didn’t return at all.

Yet every time someone asked about us, he said the same thing. “Tina and my son are the most important people in my life.” People admired him for it; the world thought he was a devoted husband. The irony almost made me laugh, because our son was already gone and he still hadn’t noticed the silence in the house.

Every night, while the world was sleeping, I worked on the research files, clinical notes, Dr. Warren had sent the entire project to me. “I’ll finish it,” I tell myself each night, for the institute and for the children who still have time.

Two weeks passed before Charles finally mentioned Sam. It happened casually, as he was adjusting his tie in the mirror, eyes on the mirror he said “We should prepare something next week,” he said.

“For what?” I asked.

“Our wedding anniversary," he replied and for a moment I said nothing he remembered that our wedding anniversary was coming up but had forgotten Sam’s birthday; he would turn 5 next week he had asked me three months ago if he could have a dinosaur cake, and mummy promise him it will be, with the green frosting, sadly that date would not surfaced.

“I’ll prepare something,” I said quietly. Charles nodded, satisfied.

Our anniversary was on a Thursday, I set the table at seven. White cloth, candles, the good china we only used for occasions. I made his favourite dish, with the recipe I learnt in the first year of our marriage.

I sat down at 8 pm and by 9 pm the candles had burned a third of the way down. When it was 10 pm, I had stopped looking at the door.

I ate alone as I thought about Sam's green frosting. I thought about the research files upstairs on the desk. I took my time setting the dishes beside the sink. Folded the cloth, I was clearing the plates when I heard the front door. Then I heard a second set of footsteps. I turned to see Charles in the doorway of the kitchen. Behind him, half a step back, stood Natasha.

He stood in the kitchen doorway without saying anything for a moment before he finally spoke, '"Tina …"

"You're late," I said casually

"I can explain…" he continued

"The lamb is cold." I said cutting him off, mid sentence and turned back to the sink and began to run the water. "There's enough for two if you're hungry. I've already eaten." I said

He was quiet for a moment, while I washed the first plate and set it on the rack.

"Tina..." He called again, his voice was lower now this time.

"Charles." I didn't turn around. "You brought a guest. The least I can do is offer her something to eat."

I glanced over my shoulder at Natasha "Are you hungry?"

Natasha opened her mouth to say something.

I turned back to the sink.

"I'll leave you both to settle in," I said, before she could make her sentence, turning back to the sink. "I have work to finish upstairs."

As I walked to the kitchen doorway I stopped because Charles was still standing there, and he didn't move. "Excuse me," I said softly.

He stepped aside. I walked upstairs, closed the bedroom door, and sat on the edge of the bed in the dark.

From below I could hear the low murmur of voices in my kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator opening. She was learning about the kitchen already.

I sat with that for exactly as long as I needed to.

Then I got up, opened the bedside drawer, and looked at the divorce papers one last time.

I closed the drawer, went to the desk and opened the research files. I worked until the house went quiet.

I stayed awake until dawn. I had packed my suitcase containing things that mattered: my clothes and the research documents. and kept it beside the door.

The divorce agreement that says Tina Wesley requests the dissolution of marriage…

I had signed it hours ago and laid it on the desk, beside Charles's morning coffee.

I picked up my suitcase, prepared to face what the world has ahead of me. At the doorway I paused once more.

“Happy birthday in advance, Sam,” I whispered.

Then I walked out of the house without looking back.

By the time Charles woke up that morning, I had already disappeared.