The Last Crab He Gave Her
That evening, I steamed them perfectly, the scent of Old Bay seasoning filling the kitchen, and arranged them on our largest platter. With the five of us, it was a perfect two apiece.
But by the time I brought the last of the side dishes to the dining room, the platter was already ravaged. Empty.
My in-laws and my son, Leo, were happily working on their second crab each. And Ethan, my husbanda man who claims to have a crippling aversion to messeswas patiently, meticulously picking crabmeat for Aubrey, his childhood sweetheart who had just moved back from London.
He saw me and, without missing a beat, issued a familiar command.
"Aubrey's crazy about these crabs, Sophie. Tell your mom to send more." He gestured with his chin towards the kitchen. "And go make some ginger tea. Too much crab isn't good for you, and Aubrey's always been delicate."
I looked at the mountain of discarded shells next to Aubreys platefour of them, a bright orange graveyardand a bitter smile touched my lips. I untied my apron.
"Ethan, I want a divorce."
1
The words dropped into the cheerful chatter like a stone, sinking all the sound to the bottom of the room.
Ethan didn't even look up. He was using a small fork to pry the last, sweet morsels of backfin meat from a shell, placing them carefully onto Aubrey's plate. Only when he was finished did he bother to glance at me, his eyes cool and distant.
"What is it this time? Did I not text you back fast enough? Wear a shirt you don't like?"
The casual, practiced nature of his dismissal, laced with a faint, almost imperceptible note of mockery, sent a sharp pang through my chest. It was true, I had threatened divorce over small things before. But he never understood that it wasnt about the small things; it was about the crushing weight of his indifference that each small thing revealed.
It was the same now. He knew I was upset, but he couldn't be bothered to understand why.
And I was just so tired.
"I'm serious, Ethan."
At this, Aubrey set down her fork, her eyes welling up instantly. "Sophie," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "is this because he was helping me with my crab? I'm so sorry, it's just it's a habit. I always forgot how, and Ethan was always there to do the tricky parts for me."
She was apologizing, but the glint of triumph in her eyes was unmistakable.
Ethan looked at me as if I were a toddler throwing a tantrum. "This is really what it's about?" he asked, incredulous. "Sophie, she's not like you. She's never had to do this kind of stuff. She doesn't know how."
He didn't even hear the thick, syrupy fondness dripping from his own words. He'd forgotten all the times Id playfully asked him to peel a shrimp for me, only to be met with a look of disgust.
"I have a thing about messes, you know that. You can do it yourself."
I glanced down at my own hands, the nails short and practical, the skin rough from years of housework. Then I looked at Aubrey'sperfectly manicured, pale, and delicate. Before I married Ethan, my hands had looked like that, too.
The bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I bit my lip, forcing my voice to remain steady.
"It's your choice to take care of her, Ethan. But those crabs my mother sent those for me."
He let out a short, dismissive laugh. "Over a few crabs? You don't even like them that much. Aubrey loves them, so I gave them to her. What's the problem?"
I've adored crabs since I was a child. My parents bought a share in a local fishery just to make sure I always had the best. I had told Ethan this story countless times. I had just shared my excitement with him over text two days ago.
"Honey, Mom says the crabs are perfect this year, she's sending the biggest ones for us. You know they're my absolute favorite."
"Two for each of us."
"I'll make sure to have ginger tea ready. They're too 'cold' for Mom and Dad and Leo, you know how they get."
His only reply at the time was "Ok."
I had assumed he was busy with work. Now I realize he probably never even read the messages. He couldnt remember my favorite food in the world, but he remembered, without prompting, that Aubrey was "delicate."
Aubrey, ever the actress, pushed her plate forward with a show of magnanimity. "Sophie, if you want them this badly, you can have mine. It's okay. I don't want you to make things hard for Ethan."
My six-year-old son, Leo, his hands and face glistening with butter and crabmeat, pouted. "Mommy, you can't have Auntie Aubrey's crabs. Daddy peeled those special for her."
My mother-in-laws face hardened. "Aubrey is a guest. It's only right that she gets them. If you're that desperate, go to the market and buy some tomorrow. Its hardly something to threaten a divorce over. Who do you think you're scaring?"
I looked around the table at their faces, each one a mask of righteous indignation, and felt my heart sink into a cold, dark place. This time, I didn't back down. My eyes burned, but I repeated my point.
"My mother sent them. For me."
Ethan rubbed his temples, a rare flicker of compromise in his expression. "Alright, that's enough. Stop making a scene. If you want crabs, I'll buy you more another day. But Aubrey is here. Don't ruin the evening."
He looked at me, his voice softening into the tone one uses to placate a child. "Go make the ginger tea for Aubrey. And this talk about divorce I'll just pretend I didn't hear it."
He thought this was just another tantrum, a childish fight over a piece of food.
No one understood. That empty platter wasn't the problem. It was the final straw.
My voice came out quiet, possessed by a calm that felt foreign even to me. "I'm not making a scene, Ethan. And this stopped being about a few crabs a long time ago."
"Tomorrow morning, I'm calling a lawyer."
Without another glance at any of them, I turned and walked to our bedroom.
2
I lay on the bed, the door closed, and listened to the muffled sounds of their conversation from the living room.
Aubrey's fragile, weeping voice drifted through the wood. "Ethan, Sophie doesn't want me here. I should go."
Then Ethan's, patient and soothing. "Aubrey, sit down. This has nothing to do with you." And then, when he spoke of me, his voice was sharp with irritation. "She just gets these ideas in her head. Its ridiculous. You just got back to the country, you don't have any friends here yet. I'm just looking out for you, like any old friend would."
"Old friend?" I whispered the words to the ceiling.
A reel of images flickered through my mind. The framed photo of him and Aubrey on his bookshelf, polished and dust-free, while he couldn't remember where we kept our own wedding album. The time Aubrey texted a list of American foods she missed, and he had me cook every single one. Our anniversary dinner, when he'd left me stranded in a car on the side of the highway because Aubrey called him, crying about something trivial.
Aubrey was a splinter, lodged deep in the heart of our marriage. And Ethan was the one who kept pushing it deeper. Now, here I was, bleeding out from a thousand tiny wounds, and all he could say was, "We're just old friends."
Leo's petulant voice piped up from the living room. "Yeah, Mommy is so mean. She's not nice and gentle like Auntie Aubrey. I wish Auntie Aubrey could be my mommy."
Then came my father-in-law's angry growl, clear as day. "Just leave her be! She's addicted to the drama. Throwing a fit like this over a few damn crabs. It's embarrassing."
I stared at the ceiling, a vast and desolate emptiness spreading through my chest. After I married Ethan, I gave up my career. I devoted myself to this family, to caring for his parents, to raising our son. And in the end, not a single one of them would speak a word in my defense.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from my mom.
"Sweetie, did the crabs get there okay? How were they? I made sure to pick out the biggest, fattest ones for you. I know you love them."
My eyes instantly flooded with tears. How could I possibly answer her? How could I tell her that I hadn't tasted a single bite of the gift she'd so lovingly sent? That more than half of them had ended up in the stomach of my husband's "old friend"?
My fingers trembled as I typed out a reply.
"They were delicious, Mom. The best yet. Thank you."
I closed the message thread and opened a browser. I booked the first flight back to Maryland for the next morning.
Outside, the front door opened and closed. Ethan was taking Aubrey home. A long time passed before he returned. I heard his footsteps go down the hall, not to our bedroom, but to the guest room. He was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to come to my senses and crawl back to him with an apology. It was how these things always ended.
But then my phone lit up again. A text from an unknown number. It was Aubrey.
"Thanks for taking care of Ethan for me these last seven years."
I ignored it. A moment later, another message came through. It was a picture of her and Ethan, their arms wrapped around each other. Then another, of them holding hands. And a third, a soft-focus kiss, his eyes closed. The photos were time-stamped. Most were from the last few weeks, since shed been back.
"Don't you get it, Sophie? He's always loved me. If I hadn't gone to London, you would have never even been in the picture."
"Do yourself a favor and get out before he has to kick you out. That would be so humiliating for you."
I didn't reply to her taunts. I just calmly saved every single photo. If this was going to court, they would be Exhibit A.
3
The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom into a disaster zone. The dining table was still littered with the dirty dishes and crab shell debris from the night before.
My father-in-law, dressed in his workout clothes, saw me and scowled. "What are you standing there for? Clean this place up. All you do is cause trouble, never anything useful. You expect us to live in this filth?"
I didn't move. He was about to launch into another tirade when Ethan emerged from the guest room. He looked frantic, pulling on a jacket as he rushed toward the door.
I stepped in front of him. "You said we'd see the lawyers today."
He brushed my arm away, his brow furrowed with annoyance. "I don't have time for that today."
"It won't take long," I insisted.
He suddenly exploded, his voice a raw shout. "Enough! Sophie, when are you going to stop this? Aubrey was so distraught over what you did last night that she fell down the stairs this morning. She broke her leg. And you still have the nerve to pull this stunt?"
His words were a signal. His parents immediately crowded around him, their faces etched with concern.
"Oh my god, is it serious?"
"Is she at the hospital? She's all alone here, no family. We should go see her."
Even Leo, now awake, started clamoring to go with them.
Ethan shot me one last venomous glare before ushering the three of them out the door, leaving me alone in the silent, cavernous living room.
I couldn't help but remember the time I was hit by a car in the grocery store parking lot. Terrified, I had called Ethan ten times in a row, each call going straight to voicemail. When he finally picked up, his voice was a blade of impatience.
"Sophie, I'm not a doctor. If you're hurt, go to the hospital. Calling me isn't going to do anything."
Not wanting to worry his parents or Leo, I had dragged myself to the emergency room alone, my leg throbbing with pain. I checked myself out after only one night, anxious to get home. But when I walked through the door, there was no concern, only cold, hard blame.
"Are you blind? How do you even manage to get hit by a car?"
"So now you're injured? Who's going to do the housework? Who's going to take Leo to school?"
I shook the memory away and started to pack.
I had just zipped my suitcase when my phone rang. It was Ethan. I answered, and his voice came through the line, dripping with entitlement.
"Sophie, Aubrey's leg is going to take a while to heal, and I can't get away from work. You need to come to the hospital and take care of her for a few days."
He continued without taking a breath. "And before you come, clear out the guest room. When Aubrey's discharged, she'll stay with us for a while to recover. That way you can make her some of that bone broth she likes every day."
"No," I said, my voice flat. "I'm not doing that."
His voice rose to a shout on the other end. "Sophie! You've gone too far!"
"If you hadn't thrown your little fit, none of this would have happened! You caused this mess, and now you have to take responsibility for it."
He hung up before I could respond.
I picked up my suitcase and walked out the door.
I wasn't going to the hospital. I was going to see my best friend, Jenna. She was a lawyer.
When Jenna heard I was finally filing for divorce, she didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, she clapped her hands in delight.
"It's about damn time! I never could stand that jerk Ethan. Let him and that snake Aubrey have each other." She paused, her expression turning serious. "But what about Leo? Are you going for full custody?"
My heart clenched. I thought of my son, wishing another woman was his mother. For the first time, the fog of maternal obligation cleared, and I saw the situation with a cold, sharp clarity.
"No," I said. "He can have him."
4
When I returned to the house to pick up the last of my things, they were all back.
And so was Aubrey, the woman with the supposedly severe leg injury. She was reclining on the sofa like a tragic queen, surrounded by her court of three adults and one child, all fussing over her.
The moment he saw me, Ethans gentle expression vanished, replaced by a dark scowl.
"Where have you been? The house is a wreck, you didn't clean up, and you ignored me when I told you to go to the hospital."
"I had things to do," I said vaguely.
He narrowed his eyes. "What could you possibly have to do?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. You're back now. Since you wouldn't go to the hospital, I brought Aubrey here." He said it as if he'd done me a great favor. "You can take care of her here at home. It'll save you the trip."
Before I could form a response, he bent down and scooped Aubrey into his arms, heading toward the master bedroom.
"I'll get her settled," he announced.
Aubrey shot me a triumphant look over his shoulder, then clutched at his collar with a feigned panic. "Oh, Ethan, I couldn't possibly stay in the master bedroom"
Ethan turned his head and looked at me. "The master is bigger, and it gets better sunlight. Its better for her recovery. Aubrey will stay in here for the time being. You can move into the guest room."
I just stood there, stunned. He had completely erased me from the equation.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" my mother-in-law snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "Get in the kitchen and start making dinner. We're all starving."
My father-in-law and Leo sat amidst the mess, not moving a muscle, waiting with the placid entitlement of men who have never had to lift a finger in their own home.
But this time, I didn't obey.
"I've already eaten," I said, turning and walking toward the guest room. "If you're hungry, you can make it yourselves."
Behind me, I heard my father-in-law begin to shout and my mother-in-law launch into a long, whining complaint.
I had just texted my parents to let them know I was on my way when the guest room door swung open. It was Ethan. He saw me lying on the bed and his face darkened with rage. "Mom burned her hand trying to cook. And you can just lie here without a shred of guilt?"
I didn't even look at him. "Oh," I said softly. "Tell her to be more careful next time." After all, she had a lifetime of cooking ahead of her.
He was speechless with anger. It took him a long moment to find his voice again. "Sophie, it was just a few crabs. Are you ever going to let this go? The house is falling apart. Can you please stop this nonsense?"
He tried a different tactic, his voice softening slightly. "Look, I'll buy you more crabs tomorrow, okay? Just get up and make dinner, then make some soup for Aubrey. She said yours is her favorite."
I rolled over, turning my back to him.
He let out a cold snort. "Fine, Sophie. Don't think for a second the world can't turn without you."
He slammed the door on his way out. For the rest of the evening, I could hear the chaotic sounds of their attempts to run the household.
For the first time in years, I fell asleep early.
When I came out the next morning, only Aubrey was home. The pretense was gone. She stood up from the sofa without a hint of a limp and walked right up to me, her smile dripping with venom.
"Ethan stayed up with me all night," she purred. "Then he got up at the crack of dawn to drive downtown and get me croissants from that little French bakery I love. Leo went with him." She gestured vaguely. "And his parents went out to the butcher to get bones. They're going to make me bone broth themselves."
I ignored her and walked past, heading into the master bedroom to grab my suitcase. She followed me in, relentless.
"You're just a pathetic little joke, Sophie. No one loves you. Your husband, your son they both love me."
Just as the words left her mouth, we heard the sound of a key in the front door lock.
In an instant, Aubrey's entire demeanor changed. Her triumphant smirk vanished. She raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the face, twice, then crumpled to the floor with a theatrical sob.
"Sophie, I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice choked with fake tears. "I was wrong! I shouldn't still have feelings for Ethan! Please, don't hit me!"
She began to crawl away from me, weeping. "I'll leave, I promise! I'll never get in your way again!"
Before I could even process what was happening, a paper bag flew through the air and hit me square in the face. Ethan's roar of fury followed a split second later.
"SOPHIE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
Something sharp on the bag's contents had cut my forehead; I felt a trickle of blood run down my temple. On the floor where the bag had fallen lay a scattered handful of large, uncooked blue crabs.
Ethan was already on the floor, cradling Aubrey in his arms, looking at me with the pure, unadulterated hatred one reserves for an enemy.
"I can't believe you've become this vicious," he spat. "And to think I went out of my way to buy you those damn crabs this morning. You don't deserve a single thing."
Leo ran over and shoved me, hard. "Bad mommy! You hurt Auntie Aubrey! I'm gonna hit you!"
My hip slammed against the door handle, sending a sharp, radiating pain through my side. I winced, but neither of them noticed or cared. Aubrey let out a small cry that her leg hurt, and in an instant, Ethan was sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her out the door. Leo trailed after them, his small face a mask of worry.
I looked down at the crabs scattered on the floor, then picked up my suitcase.
Without looking back, I walked out of the house and took a taxi to the airport.
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