I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 04

I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 04

Wednesday arrived-the tenth anniversary of our marriage, and the anniversary of my mother’s passing.

Before heading out that morning, Thomas stood in front of the bedroom mirror tying his necktie.

“Be at South Mountain Cemetery at three this afternoon. You promised you’d come with me.” I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, watching him.

He didn’t pause adjusting his collar.

“I remember. I’ll drive straight there to meet you with a bouquet of white lilies, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t worry, I’d never forget your mom’s death anniversary.” He pulled on his suit jacket and

grabbed his car keys. “We’ll eat dinner downtown tonight at that Cantonese restaurant you love to

celebrate our ten years.”

He smiled, the picture of a devoted husband.

I would’ve believed him, if I hadn’t seen Mabel’s good morning message pop up on his phone

screen minutes earlier.

Half-past two that afternoon. I stood outside the flower shop at the foot of the cemetery hill, clutching a bouquet of white lilies.

A bitter wind whipped through the air, chilling me to the bone.

2:50 PM. 3:00 PM. 3:15 PM.

Thomas’s car never appeared.

I dialed his number. It rang seven times before he picked up, loud chaotic background noise echoing through the line-workers shouting, “Careful, shift it left!”

“Hello, Holly.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m so sorry, Holly-there’s an emergency at the gallery.” He sounded frantic. “The main display stand’s support frame collapsed out of nowhere. Mabel was hysterical, and several core sculptures nearly crashed to the floor.”

“I have to stay here and supervise the repair crew, or tomorrow’s opening ceremony will be ruing d entirely.”

I stared at dry dead leaves swirling across the cemetery path in the wind.

“A crew of construction workers can fix a broken frame. Do you really need to be there personally?”

“Mabel’s terrified, and there’s no one else to take charge. Besides, those are all my sculptures:

how could I abandon them?”

“Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death.”

Silence hung over the line for a beat.

“I know, but some matters take priority over others. Holly, be practical. Mom would understand up

there. I’ll wrap this up as fast as I can and be on time for our dinner reservation tonight, I swear.”

Before I could reply, Mabel’s tearful voice cut through the background noise.

“Tom, this base sculpture looks cracked too-what are we going to do?”

“I’m coming right away!” Thomas rushed out a hasty goodbye to me. “I have to go, I’ll call you

later.”

The line went dead, a steady dial tone ringing loud over the wind.

I didn’t dial him back. Holding my lilies tight, I walked alone up the winding cemetery path.

Be reasonable. Those two words had been his go-to line for ten years, a tight band squeezing my

heart every time.

I set the flowers down on my mother’s headstone.

“Mom, he didn’t come.”

“But I won’t have to make excuses for him anymore, starting today.”

I skipped the restaurant reservation he’d made and headed straight back to our empty house.

Eleven o’clock that night. The front door unlocked, and Thomas stepped inside, worn out, a faint feminine perfume clinging to his clothes. He spotted me sitting alone on the couch and froze.

“Why didn’t you show up for dinner? I texted you and never got a reply.”

“I was too tired to go out.” I nodded toward the table, where cold takeout sat untouched. “The

food’s gone cold-you can eat it if you want.”

He walked over, rubbing his exhausted eyes with a long sigh.

“Today was total chaos. Mabel’s never dealt with a crisis like this before; she was panicking, so I

stayed to calm her down until just now. I truly couldn’t leave.”

He crossed to the carving bench and flipped on the desk lamp.

“I have to work late tonight. Mabel said a dog carving was missing. I need to carve it overnight for

her.” He grabbed a fresh block of lumber and sat back down. “I’ll fix your hair clip tomorrow, I promise-alright?”

He didn’t even bother glancing back at me, taking it for granted that a half-hearted promise would keep me waiting indefinitely, as it always had before.

“No need.”

I stood and walked over beside his bench, setting a stack of official papers down on the empty space next to his tools. He was fully absorbed sketching the wooden dog’s ears, the scratch of his knife loud in the quiet room. He never looked up while carving.

“What’s this?” he asked without interest.

“Urgent paperwork from the gallery. They need your signature right now.” I lied calmly.

“Just set it there.”

“They said it’s time-sensitive, they need it tonight.”

Thomas frowned and finally paused his carving knife, though he never scanned the document’s

contents. He’d grown used to me sorting all his tedious contracts and paperwork for him.

He flipped straight to the final signature page and grabbed the fountain pen beside the bench.

“Sign here?”

“Yes.”

He scrawled his name, Thomas Hill, in a fluid looping script, even filling in the date without reading a single line of text.

“Alright, stop distracting me. The dog’s fur detailing is intricate, I need to focus.” He shoved the

papers aside and returned to his carving, fully lost in his craft once more.

I picked up the document stack: a signed Divorce Settlement Agreement. Both our signatures printed clearly in black ink across the bottom pages.

I turned and walked into the bedroom, lifting the suitcase I’d packed days earlier.

As I passed through the living room, he remained turned away from me, completely absorbed in his wooden sculpture.

I pulled open the front door. Cool night air rushed inside, sweeping the familiar wood-shaving

scent out of every room.

I closed the door behind me and left our house key under the doormat.