Waiting Under The Maple Tree

On the night of our third wedding anniversary, Stephen came home smelling like a distillery and a mid-life crisis.

He stumbled through the door, his hands fumbling for purchase until they clamped around my wrists. His grip was frantic, desperate. Then he whispered the name that had been a ghost in our guest room for three years.

"Daisy," he slurred, his face pressed into the crook of my neck. "Youre finally free. You finally left him."

I froze. I didn't pull away. I didn't cry. I just stood there like a statue in my own hallway, letting him hold me while he confessed to a woman who wasn't there.

He started mumbling againbitter, jagged words. He talked about how agonizing these three years had been. How every time hed picked me up from work, or bought me flowers, or sat across from me at dinner, hed been pretending I was her. Every second, he said, was a penance.

Once hed emptied his heart of all that poison, he collapsed onto the bed and fell into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and watched the moon crawl across the floor. I stayed there until the sun replaced it.

When Stephen finally stirred and saw me, he flinched. But the shock didn't last long. It was quickly replaced by a look of profound, sickening relief.

"So, you heard?" he asked, rubbing his face. His voice was gravelly. "Good. At least I don't have to keep playing the part."

He told me he was with her. Daisy.

It had happened yesterday. On our anniversary.

Hed been chasing her for three years, he said, and she had finally said yes.

"I'm sorry," he added, though he didn't look it. "But what I have with her its the real thing. Its the only thing thats ever been real."

I didn't argue. I didn't scream. I just reached into the nightstand and pulled out two copies of a divorce settlement.

The date lines were blank, but the signature at the bottom was already there. Hed signed them three years ago, on the very day we got our marriage license. It had been my one condition for saying "I do"a safety switch I hoped Id never have to flip.

He snatched the papers from my hand, flipping through them twice as if looking for a hidden trap.

"What is this?"

"Its exactly what it looks like," I said, my voice steady. "I told you three years ago when you signed thesethe day you decide youre done, you just fill in the date. Consider it my anniversary gift to you."

He slammed the papers onto the nightstand. The sound was sharp, like a bone snapping.

"Daisy had no idea I was still pursuing her these last three years," he snapped, defensive. "She only gave me an answer yesterday. This isn't an affair. I didn't cheat on you."

I stood up and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. My throat felt like Id swallowed glass.

"I know," I said. "You were always home by six. You were here every weekend. You never missed a birthday or a holiday. You were the perfect husband on paper. You didn't cheat."

He followed me into the kitchen, his shadow looming over me.

"Then whats with the attitude? Youve had these papers ready for three years? Youve just been waiting for me to fail?"

I set the glass down.

"You were so drunk last night that when I helped you into bed, you called her name twenty-three times. I counted, Stephen. Twenty-three."

He went silent.

I walked past him back into the bedroom, picked up the documents, and placed a pen neatly beside them.

"Fill in the date. Im going to work."

I was at the door, stepping into my heels, when he caught up to me. He was barefoot, his shirt rumpled, looking smaller than I remembered.

"Youre just leaving?"

I straightened my back and looked him in the eye.

"What else is there to do? You confessed your love to her yesterday. Have you even told her the truth yet? Is she waiting for you? Do you have a first date planned?"

His mouth opened, then clicked shut.

"Ill help you out," I said. "Today is Thursday. You can take her to dinner Friday, maybe a movie on Saturday. Ill be back on Monday to get the rest of my things."

When the door clicked shut behind me, he didn't follow.

The elevator arrived instantly. I watched the numbers count down, a digital heartbeat.

10. 9. 8

The doors slid open on the lobby level. A delivery guy was standing there, clutching a massive bouquet of red roses, squinting at a slip of paper.

"Daisy?" he asked, looking up at me.

"No," I said, stepping past him. "Wrong floor."

I walked out into the blinding morning sun.

A white BMW was idling near the entrance of the complex.

As I walked toward the street, the window glided down. Daisys face appeared.

She gave me a small smile. It was a fragile, delicate thingthe kind of smile that looked accidental, but felt entirely calculated.

"Claire," she said softly. "Is Stephen upstairs?"

I didn't stop. I walked right past the hood of her car.

"He was pretty trashed last night," she called out after me. "I was worried. I just wanted to check on him."

I stopped then. I turned around.

She was already stepping out of the car. She was wearing a simple white sundress, her hair loose and wavy, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked like an angel. Id seen this version of her a thousand timesin the photos hidden on Stephens phone, in the shadows across the street from his office.

"He was trashed," I agreed. "In our bed."

She flinched, just a little.

"Claire, please don't misunderstand"

"Oh, theres no misunderstanding," I said. "He spent the night griping my wrist and calling your name. Twenty-three times, to be exact. This morning, he woke up and told me you finally said yes. Congratulations. Youre officially a couple."

A soft pink flush crept up her neck.

"Im so sorry I didn't mean for this to happen. I truly didn't know he was still married. He never mentioned it"

I watched her. Her eyes were already beginning to shimmer with tears, her lashes wet, her lip trembling. She looked like the victim of some great, tragic misunderstanding.

It was a hell of a performance.

"Well, now you know," I said. "Hes in 301. Go ahead. Hes waiting."

She didn't move.

Behind me, the sound of heavy footsteps hit the pavement. "Daisy?"

I didn't have to turn around to know it was Stephen. Hed run out in his slippers, his hair a mess, his shirt half-unbuttoned. When he saw her standing there, he froze for a split second before rushing over.

He stepped in front of her, physically shielding her from me.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

I let out a sharp, dry laugh. "What am I doing?"

He stood there like a knight protecting a maiden, as if he expected me to lung at her.

"She didn't know anything," he said, his jaw tight. "Im the one who chased her. Im the one who lied and said we were over. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Leave her out of this."

From behind his shoulder, Daisy whispered, "Stephen, don't. She didn't say anything..."

I couldn't help it. I laughed again, louder this time.

"I haven't even opened my mouth yet, and youve already finished the script."

Stephen scowled at me. "Stop with the sarcasm, Claire. Its beneath you."

"Sarcasm?" I looked at him, then at the half-hidden face behind him. "Daisy, you just told me you were sorry because you didn't know he had a family. He just said he lied to you. So, which one of you is the liar? Because the math isn't adding up."

Daisys tears finally spilled over.

Stephens expression darkened. He looked at me with more fire than Id seen in years.

"Enough," he said. "Ill sign the papers. Ill give you whatever you want. Just leave her alone."

I stared at him. For three years, hed never looked at me like that. Hed never stood in front of me. Hed only ever been a ghost sitting at my dinner table.

"What do I want?" I asked. "I don't want anything. The settlement is already favorable to you. Keep the houseyour parents paid the down payment anyway. Just buy out my half of the mortgage payments Ive made for three years. Keep the car. Im taking my clothes and my dignity. Thats it."

He blinked, stunned by the lack of a fight.

Daisy stepped out from behind him, reaching for his sleeve. "Stephen, don't do this. Im fine, really"

He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, gripping her tight.

The sight of ittheir hands locked together in the morning lightfelt strangely hollow. I felt a sudden, sharp wave of boredom.

"Fine," I said. "Ill be back Monday for my things. Enjoy your first day of real love."

I turned and walked toward the edge of the complex.

I was twenty paces away when I heard footsteps sprinting behind me.

It was Daisy. She was out of breath, her hand catching my elbow.

"Claire," she hissed, her voice low. "I really didn't know he was married. If I had, I never would have said yes. You have to believe me."

I looked down at her hand on my arm. Her nails were perfectly manicured, tipped with tiny, shimmering crystals.

"Let go."

She didn't.

"Claire, don't hate him. Its my fault"

I wrenched my arm away.

"Daisy," I said. "Do you want to know what I find most exhausting about you?"

She stared at me, wide-eyed and innocent.

"Its not that you want him," I said. "Its this act. This 'Im just a girl in a white dress' routine. You knew everything. You knew he was married. Youve known for three years. You didn't say yes a month ago, or a year ago. You waited until yesterday. Do you even know what yesterday was?"

Her eyes flickered.

"It was our anniversary," I said.

She didn't say a word.

"For three years, you accepted the flowers he bought with our joint account. You went to the dinners he used as excuses to stay out late. You knew exactly where he went every night when he left you. You didn't 'misunderstand' anything. You just waited until you were sure youd won."

The tears started again. "Claire, I swear"

"Don't," I said. "We aren't friends. We aren't sisters. Were just two people who happen to be exhausted by the same man."

I turned my back on her and walked away. This time, she didn't follow.

When I reached the bus stop, my phone buzzed. A text from Stephen.

I signed the papers. Theyre on the shoe rack by the door. Let me know before you come on Monday. Ill take her out so you don't have to see each other.

I stared at the words until they blurred.

the bus pulled up. I climbed on and found a seat by the window.

My phone buzzed again. Stephen.

Shes been through enough these last three years. I won't let her be hurt anymore.

Daisy was waiting on the steps of the courthouse on the day of the hearing.

Shed traded the white sundress for a pale blue one. Her hair was pulled back, her face still remarkably "clean" of makeup. When she saw me get out of the car, she took a step back but said nothing.

Stephen was standing at the top of the stairs, clutching his file like a shield.

As I climbed the steps, he looked at me briefly, then looked away.

"Lets get this over with," I said.

He turned and led the way inside. I followed. Daisy stayed outside, a silent sentinel on the concrete.

The divorce windows and the marriage windows were separated only by a few rows of plastic chairs. We sat in front of a middle-aged clerk with thick glasses who didn't even bother looking up from her screen.

"Reason for dissolution?"

"Irreconcilable differences," I said.

Stephen glanced at me sharply.

The clerk flipped through the papers and pointed to a blank space. "Fill in the bank details for the buyout. If there are no children, leave the custody section blank."

I wrote down my routing number and handed over the copies of the mortgage payments.

The clerk glanced at the totals, pulled out a heavy stamp, and slammed it down. The sound echoed in the quiet rooma dull, final thud.

"Thats it," she said, sliding two green folders across the counter. "One for each of you. Keep them safe."

Stephen didn't move.

I reached out, took both folders, checked the names, and pushed his toward him.

"Take it."

He stared at the folder but didn't touch it.

I left it on the counter, stood up, and started for the exit. I was almost at the heavy glass doors when he called out.

"Claire! Wait."

I stopped.

He caught up to me, his face pale, clutching the folder so hard the cardboard was crinkling.

"Thats it? Youre just going?"

"What did you expect, Stephen? Should I take you and Daisy out for a celebratory brunch?"

He gave a sudden, jagged laugh. It wasn't the relief Id seen the other morning. It was something elsebitter and hollow.

"I regret it," he said. "I regret ever marrying you."

I looked at his face. For three years, this was the face Id woken up to. I knew the way his brow furrowed in his sleep, the way hed reach out in the middle of the night, touch my shoulder, and then pull away as if hed been burned.

"What did you say?"

"I said I regret it." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Every single day for three years. But what I regret most is"

I slapped him.

The crack of my palm against his cheek echoed through the lobby.

The clerk looked up. The couples in the marriage line turned their heads.

He stumbled back, his hand flying to his face, eyes wide with shock.

I rubbed my palm. It stung. "That," I said, "was a refund for the last three years of my life."

Before he could respond, footsteps clicked rapidly behind him. Daisy ran into the lobby, throwing herself in front of him, her arms spread wide like she was protecting him from a firing squad.

"What is wrong with you?" she screamed at me, her eyes red. "How can you hit him? Youre a monster! A common thug!"

I looked at her. Her lips were trembling, her posture was tragic. She looked like a heroine in a Victorian novel.

"A monster?" I asked quietly.

She flinched but stood her ground.

"Hes just telling the truth, and you attack him? Do you have any idea how much he suffered? He came to see me every single night before going home to you. He told me he couldn't breathe in that house. He said being in the same room as you made his skin crawl"

"Daisy," Stephen warned behind her. "Stop."

She ignored him. "Every gift he ever bought you? I picked them out. He didn't know what you liked because he didn't care. Every bouquet of flowers? I chose the colors because he was afraid to bring home something youd actually like"

"DAISY!"

She spun around to look at him, tears streaming down her face.

"Im defending you!" she sobbed. "I won't let her bully you anymore!"

Stephen pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He looked at me then, and I saw a cocktail of emotions Id never seen before. Hate, rage, pity, and a sliver of guilt, all crushed into a single command.

"Just go, Claire. Get out."

I didn't move.

"I was going," I said. "Hes the one who stopped me."

He looked stunned for a moment.

Daisy looked up from his chest, her face tear-streaked. She looked at me and whispered, "Claire, don't blame him hes just having a hard day"

I looked at the two of them. He was shielding her, she was clinging to him. They stood there in the lobby of the courthouse like a pair of star-crossed lovers who had finally reached the end of their ordeal. The sun streaming through the glass doors made them look radiant.

I tucked my green folder into my bag and walked down the steps.

"Im sending someone for the house tomorrow!" he yelled after me. "Get your shit out by tonight!"

I didn't turn around.

"I have your account number! Youll have the money by next week!"

I still didn't turn around.

When I reached the curb, Daisys voice floated down from the top of the stairs.

"Claire!"

I stopped and looked back. She had run down the steps and was standing three feet away, panting.

"Claire," she said, her voice small. "Im sorry."

I looked at her. The tears were still there, her nose was red, her expression was a masterpiece of sincerity.

"Sorry for what, Daisy?"

She hesitated. "For for what I said. I didn't mean it. I just I love him so much, and it hurts to see him hurt"

"Hurts to see him hurt from what?"

She blinked. "From from everything. These last three years"

"What about them?" I asked. "Did he cheat? No. Did he hit me? No. Did he starve me? No. He just didn't love me. Thats not a tragedy, Daisy. Its just a bad marriage."

Her mouth fell open.

"Daisy," I said, leaning in. "If you really loved him, why did you wait? He chased you for three years. You kept him on a leash for three years, and you only pulled him in on our anniversary. Do you really love him, or do you just love the way he looks when hes begging?"

She went dead silent.

I turned and walked away. This time, she stayed put.

By the time I reached the bus stop, my phone buzzed.

Money will be sent this afternoon. Keys are with the building manager. Don't contact me again.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

The bus arrived. I took my seat by the window.

The phone buzzed one last time.

She isn't who you think she is. Youve got her all wrong.

I slid the phone into my pocket.

A small, genuine smile touched my lips.

Finally. I was free.