You Can Keep The Boy

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my acute cholecystitis flared up.

I was curled in agony on a cold hospital bench, sending a dozen texts to Helena. None of them went throughor rather, none were answered. Just as I was about to sign my own surgical consent form, my screen lit up. It was a video from Cody.

In the video, Helena was holding a heavy blue moving box for him. Her voice, usually so clipped with me, was incredibly tender: "Let me grab that, don't strain yourself."

Then came Cody's cheerful voice note: "Hey Lucas, Helena's helping me unpack and hasn't checked her phone. Everything okay?"

Gritting my teeth, I declined the call and signed the consent form myself.

Five years of marriage, and every milestone, every crisis, saw her standing by someone else's side. When my father underwent surgery for stomach cancer, she was at the clinic holding Cody's hand through a bout of food poisoning. When my mother was on her deathbed, Helena was in a gaming lounge, keeping Cody company because he was "heartbroken."

When the anesthesia wore off, the wife in the next bed was gently peeling an apple for her husband. I closed my eyes, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.

The divorce papers were already drawn up; I had already found a new apartment. This would be the very last time I waited for her to come home.

"Lucas, running late? Helena got back about an hour ago," the doorman said, helping me push open the heavy glass door of our building.

I gave a tight nod, the fresh incision in my abdomen throbbing with every step.

Elevator to the ninth floor.

When I opened the apartment door, Helena was curled on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. On the coffee table sat two opened boxes of antacids.

"You're home?" she asked without looking up. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I was busy."

"Busy enough to turn your phone off?" Her brow furrowed, and she finally spared me a glance. "Cody moved into his new place today. He wanted to buy us dinner, but you didn't show. He was really hurt."

I didn't reply. I slipped off my shoes, quietly tucking the hospital billing receipt deeper into my coat pocket. "I sent you a message. I told you I wasn't feeling well and was going to the hospital."

"Oh?" She swiped her screen carelessly. "I didn't notice. It was chaos at Cody's place. I guess I missed it."

"So busy you couldn't spare two seconds to check your phone?"

"Lucas, here we go again." She snapped her phone face down on the table, her impatience flaring. "Cody is completely alone in this city. He has no family here. If I don't help him with the heavy lifting, who will? You've always been so independent. Why do you have to make a fuss over something so small?"

I stared at the woman standing before me, feeling a sudden, chilling distance. She felt like a complete stranger.

Independent. That was her favorite shield.

Because I was independent, she could hold Cody's hand during an IV drip while my dad was in the operating room. Because I was independent, I had to arrange my mothers funeral alone while she took Cody on a road trip to "clear his head." My independence was my punishment; it meant I was always relegated to the very end of her list.

"I brought back some leftovers Cody made. They're in the kitchen. Go heat them up." She stood and walked toward the study.

I walked into the kitchen. In the trash can lay a few takeout boxesthe delivery address was Cody's new apartment complex on the South Side. On the counter sat a sturdy, matte-black folding umbrella with a deep navy trim. It was Cody's style through and through.

"Helena, whose umbrella is this?"

"Cody's," she called out. "It was pouring when I left, so he lent it to me. I'll give it back next time I see him."

"Next time?" I traced the handle of the umbrella. "He lives on the South Side, we're on the North Side. How is that on your way?"

"Lucas, are you seriously tracking my mileage now?" She pushed open the study door, her voice hardening. "I helped him move, we grabbed a bite, and I got home a little late. That's it. Do you have to make everything so ugly?"

She called it "making a scene."

I said nothing, silently opening the refrigerator. The shelves, which I had meticulously stocked with gourmet ingredients for our anniversary dinner, had been shoved to the back. In their place were several six-packs of blue-labeled energy drinks and a vacuum-sealed package of spiced beefCody's favorites.

"Is he going to be coming over often?"

"His new place is close to my office," she said, handing me a shiny set of keys. "He doesn't have a place to rest during his lunch breaks, so I told him he could crash here. This is our spare set. I gave him a copy. In case you're ever out of town on a business trip, he can help out around the house."

She hadn't even bothered to ask me. She had simply carved out a piece of our private, sacred space and handed it to Cody on a silver platter.

"Helena, what is Cody's contact name in your phone?"

She blinked, caught off guard, then tapped her screen. "Just 'Cody.' Why?"

"And what's mine?"

Silence stretched for three seconds before she turned the screen toward me. There, in cold, clinical letters, was my full name: Lucas Wright. First and last name. As cold as a business contact.

"It's just a contact name. Do you really have to be this dramatic?"

"No," I said quietly. "I suppose not."

I turned and walked into the bedroom. Reaching into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, I pulled out the signed divorce agreement.

My phone buzzed. It was the leasing agent for my new apartment: "Hi Lucas, the apartment is clean and ready for move-in. When should we schedule the movers?"

I stared out at the pitch-black night and typed back two words: "Tomorrow morning."

"I have a follow-up appointment today," I said at seven the next morning. Helena was at the vanity, carefully applying lipstick. "Can you drive me?"

"A follow-up? What's actually wrong with you?"

"Gallbladder surgery. The surgeon said the incision was in a tricky spot and needs to be checked."

She paused, her lipstick hovering. "Why didn't you mention this?"

"I sent you a text. I called. You were busy assembling Cody's gaming desk."

A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, but it vanished instantly. "Fine, I'll drive you. What time?"

"Nine."

"We have time, then. I just need to run by Cody's first. His water heater burst, and his floors are flooding. He can't handle it alone. I'll be back to pick you up at eight-thirty."

"He can call maintenance," I said softly. "Or a plumber."

"It's Sunday, maintenance is off. And emergency plumbers cost a fortune. Cody just put down a deposit on the apartment; he's tight on cash. He needs to save where he can." She grabbed her car keys. "It'll take thirty minutes. Wait for me."

I sat on the bench in the entryway.

Eight-thirty came and went. No Helena.

At nine, a voice note arrived. In the background, I could hear the roar of rushing water and Cody's panicked shouting.

"Lucas, it's bad. The hardwood floors are warping. I have to help him move his furniture. Just take an Uber. It's just a routine follow-up anyway; it's not like the doctor's going to keep you there."

My fingers tightened around the phone. A sharp, throbbing pain bloomed across my lower abdomen. "Helena, the doctor said if the healing isn't looking good, they might have to re-suture it."

"Oh, come on, stop trying to scare me. You've always been strong as an ox. Don't start being fragile now. I'll come pick you up from the clinic when I'm done here, okay?"

The line went dead.

I took an Uber to the hospital alone. Lines, exams, blood draws.

The doctor looked at my charts, his face darkening. "The incision is severely inflamed. What happened? I told you absolute bed rest."

"...I had to move some things around the house."

"It hasn't even begun to fuse properly. Any more strain and you're looking at a serious infection." He scribbled a prescription. "Five days of IV antibiotics. You have to come in every single day. Where's your emergency contact? Why are you alone again?"

"She's busy."

Walking out of the clinic, my phone rang. It was my mother. "Lucas, happy anniversary, sweetheart! What did Helena get you?"

I leaned against the cold corridor wall, taking a shallow breath. "She got me... a watch. It's beautiful, Mom."

"That's wonderful. Helena is quiet, but she has a good heart. Remember when I broke my leg and she was away on that business trip? She still sent money for those supplements."

I closed my eyes.

She hadn't been on a business trip. She had been in Austin, attending an esports tournament with Cody. The two hundred dollars she had sent me didn't even cover the cost of the seafood dinner she bought him that night. And during the seven days my mother was hospitalized, Helena was in the same city but never set foot in the ward. Her excuse? "Cody says he's feeling suicidal after his breakup. I need to watch him. He's genuinely volatile. Your mom has a chronic condition; she's going to be fine."

"Mom," I said, "I'm thinking of relocating. A position opened up at the branch in Austin."

"What about Helena?"

"She... supports it."

By the time I hung up, it was 2:00 PM. A text from Helena finally popped up:

"Water heater is fixed. Cody insisted on buying me barbecue to thank me. You're probably done, right? I figured you'd be home by now, so I won't head over to the clinic."

After fixing his pipes and eating barbecue, she had finally remembered me.

"I'm done," I replied.

"Great. I want pickled fish for dinner. Pick up a fresh trout on your way back. Cody's coming over; it's his absolute favorite."

Staring at the words Cody's absolute favorite, my stomach churned. I opened my contacts and called the moving company.

"Can we move the pick-up to 3:00 PM today? I want to get this done."

"Today? Mr. Wright, you scheduled for tomorrow."

"I can't wait."

I couldn't risk waiting. If I stayed another night, I knew I would end up throwing that fish in her face.

"Thanks for the trouble, Lucas!" Cody said as he stepped through the door, carrying two cheap plastic containers of fruit, a bright grin on his face.

Helena followed behind him, still holding Cody's deep navy folding umbrella.

"Cody said no one makes pickled fish like you do," Helena said, kicking off her shoes and casually hanging the umbrella on the coat rackthe exact hook where I always hung my jacket.

I sat at the dining table, watching Cody confidently pull his favorite black mug from our cabinet.

"Hey Lucas, did you get a new apron? I liked the camouflage one better."

"It got dirty. I threw it out," I said evenly.

"Oh, Helena, can you tie this apron for me? My hands are wet," Cody called out, turning his back to her.

Without a second thought, Helena dropped her coat and stepped up to him. In the cramped kitchen, they stood incredibly close. Her hands moved with a practiced ease, a routine they had clearly performed a thousand times before.

I sat in the living room, staring at the massive wedding portrait on the wall. In that photo, Helena had held my arm with the exact same familiarity, promising that I was the only man she would ever share a kitchen with.

"Lucas, why aren't you helping?" Cody poked his head out, his eyes drifting to my midsection. "Helena said you've been under the weather? You look perfectly fine to me. Just trying to get out of kitchen duty?"

"He's fine. It was just a minor gallbladder thing," Helena called out from the stove. "Don't copy him, Cody. Lucas is the type of guy who can carry two fifty-pound bags of concrete up five flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. He doesn't need looking after."

It wasn't that I didn't need looking after. It was that no one cared to look.

I watched Helena meticulously slice the spiced beef Cody loved, arranging it perfectly on a platter, completely forgetting that because of my surgery, I couldn't touch anything spicy or greasy. The red-hot, chili-laden fish was prepared entirely for him.

During dinner, Cody suddenly pulled a bottle of cologne from his bag and sprayed it right in front of Helena. "Helena, do you like this scent? The last bottle broke in your car. This is my new one."

Helena studied it for a moment, then nodded. "It's nice. Suits you."

My grip on my chopsticks tightened. Last year for my birthday, I had practically begged her to help me pick out a cologne. She had dismissed it, calling it a "commercial trap" and a waste of money.

"Look, Lucas, Helena and I share our locations now," Cody said, shoving his phone screen in my face. "One night I was stuck at the office and couldn't get a cab. She saw my dot hadn't moved for thirty minutes and drove straight down to pick me up. She's so attentive."

On the screen, their two icons were practically touching. Meanwhile, the night I was sitting in the emergency room waiting for a signature, she hadn't even bothered to open the map I sent her.

"You want to join the sharing circle?" Cody asked.

"No, thanks."

"He doesn't need it," Helena answered for me. "Lucas has a great sense of direction, and he's too independent anyway. He'd find it annoying."

Cody set his phone down, his eyes landing on my wrist. I was wearing a platinum chain bracelet with a tiny silver pine needle charm.

"Wow, that bracelet is stunning. It looks so high-end." He reached over to touch it. "Helena, is this the one you said you wanted to give away?"

Helena glanced at it. "Yeah. I gave it to Lucas years ago. He doesn't really wear jewelry anymore. It just gets in his way when he's working." She stood up and walked over to me. "Lucas, you've had that for years. The style is getting a bit dated anyway. Cody just moved into his new place and doesn't have any nice accessories to wear out. Why don't you let him borrow it for a while?"

I stared at the pine needle charm. It was a limited-edition piece she had spent weeks searching the city for on our first anniversary. She had told me then that I was as resilient as a pine tree. Now, she wanted me to hand that resilience over to her fragile little project.

"Lucas, I'm talking to you. You're always working with your hands anyway. It's just a distraction."

Slowly, I unclasped the bracelet. The cool metal dragged against my skin, leaving a cold trail. "Take it."

Cody gasped, snatching it up and fastening it around his wrist. "Thanks, Lucas! I'll take great care of it."

I watched the charm bounce against Cody's wrist. In that silent apartment, I heard the faint, distinct sound of my own heart shattering into dust.

At six on Sunday morning, I got up and made some plain white rice porridge. No oil, no salt.

Helena walked out, yawning, and cast a disapproving look at the pot. "Why so bland? Cody said last night he wanted beef and egg congee."

"I wanted plain porridge."

"Suit yourself. I'll grab something out." She sat down, scrolling through her phone. "The invitations for Cody's housewarming dinner went out. It's next Friday. Make sure you request the day off."

Last year, when I got my promotion, we had planned a quiet dinner at home. But Cody's apartment had a power outage, and she rushed over to play video games with him in the dark. The expensive dinner I had prepared ended up rotting in the trash.

"I might not be free."

"What else could you possibly have going on?" she asked, her voice sharp with irritation. "Cody treats you like an older brother. Stop being so stuck-up. Don't you think you're taking this too far?"

I swallowed a spoonful of the bland porridge. It tasted like ash.

"Helena."

"What now?"

"If I packed up and left one day without a word, would you even look for me?"

Her fork paused for a fraction of a second, then she let out a dry laugh. "Lucas, you're too old for these childish mind games. Where would you go? Your job is here, your life is here. Honestly, who else but me would put up with your rigid attitude?"

To her, my presence was an absolute certainty. I had no other choice.

She put on her coat and picked up Cody's navy blue umbrella. "Cody needs help picking out a rug at the furniture market today. He wants my eye. I'll probably help him set up his gaming console afterward, so don't wait up for dinner."

She slipped on her shoes and reached for the doorknob.

"Helena," I called out, one last time. "Don't go today. Stay and drive me to the clinic to finish my IV. I'm really not feeling well."

Her frown deepened. "You said it wasn't a big deal. Cody already made an appointment with the vendor. It's rude to cancel last minute. Just call an Uber. Treat yourself to a nice lunch after you're done, my treat."

"Do you really have to go?"

"Lucas, why are you being so incredibly unreasonable today? He's shopping for rugs alone. What if he gets ripped off? Can't you be a little more generous?"

The door slammed shut.

Once the hum of the elevator faded, the apartment became as quiet as a tomb. I stood up and began to pack.

I didn't own much. My side of the closet was cleared out in minutes. On the bathroom counter, my toiletries boiled down to a single, half-empty bottle of aftershave.

I took our wedding portrait off the bookshelf. Looking at my younger self, smiling so radiantly, I felt a wave of pity. I turned it face down on the table, leaving it behind.

The sofa cushions, which Cody had complained were too light, had already been replaced by Helena with dark grey gaming cushions. There was no space left for me here.

I placed the signed divorce papers directly in the center of the coffee table. I weighed them down with the expensive fountain pen Cody had gifted her.

Beside it, I left a sticky note:

My transfer to the Austin branch went through. I'm gone.

Once you sign, mail them to my company's legal department.

Consider the pine bracelet his housewarming gift.