Chapter 2 No.2

The wedding ring sat on the cold marble of the bathroom counter.

Cecil stared at it. For a week, it had lived in her pocket, a secret weight. Now, seeing it outside, separate from her body, it looked like a foreign object.

She had taken it off the day after she filed the Massachusetts application. Her finger felt naked, indented. A pale, blank space where a promise used to be.

She picked it up. It was heavier than she remembered. She walked into the master bedroom, a space that had felt cold for a year, and opened Cleve's jewelry box. She dropped the ring inside. It landed with a soft, final clink.

Next, she went to Leo's room. It was exactly as he'd left it. A book lay open on his nightstand. She picked it up, her thumb tracing the edge of the page he'd been reading.

She spent the afternoon packing his life into boxes. His worn sweaters, his collection of old movies, the ridiculous mug he'd given her that said "World's Okayest Sister." Each item was a small, sharp pain. She sealed the last box with packing tape, entombing the memories. She would send them to a storage unit. A place for things you couldn't bear to look at, but couldn't bear to throw away.

She found a framed photo on his desk. It was from five years ago. A rare day of sunshine. She stood in the middle, Leo on one side, his smile weak but genuine. On her other side was Cleve, his arm around her, his expression proprietary. They looked happy. They had been happy.

She took the photo out of its frame. Her fingers were precise. She tore the picture in half, cleanly separating Cleve from her and Leo. She put the part with her brother in her pocket and let the other half flutter into the trash can.

That evening, Cleve came home with Ivanna. They were laughing about something.

"Cecil," Cleve said, his smile bright. "We were just picking up a few things for the charity gala."

Ivanna stood beside him, a perfect echo. She wore a simple black dress. Around her neck was a delicate diamond necklace. A birthday present Cleve had given Cecil three years ago.

"That necklace is lovely on you, Ivanna," Cecil said. Her voice was steady.

Ivanna's hand went to her throat, a gesture of shy pleasure. "Cleve has the most wonderful taste. He said it was just a little something he picked up."

Cecil looked at Cleve. His eyes held no recognition. No memory. It was just a necklace. She was just a memory he'd forgotten to delete.

Later that night, he came into her room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall.

"You've been quiet," he said. He sat beside her, the mattress dipping with his weight. He held out a small bottle. Sleeping pills. "Your assistant said you haven't been sleeping. I had Dr. Matthews prescribe you something mild."

It was an act of care. It was an act of control. He needed her composed. He needed the perfect, grieving sister, the stable, supportive wife.

"Thank you," she said.

She took the bottle from his hand. His fingers brushed against hers. They were warm.

She waited until he left. She dry-swallowed one pill. The bitterness coated her tongue. The pain was a physical thing now, a pill she was forcing down her own throat. It was the last dose of him she would ever willingly take.