The Season I Left You Behind

Sheila Mason and I made a bet.

Whoever finished the experiment first would marry Stanley Henson.

To win, I ran data day and night, and the day I was about to succeed, an earthquake hit.

I was buried for six days.

On the seventh day, Stanley carried me out with his eyes rimmed red and took the leg off at the knee.

After the surgery he stroked my hair like he loved me, and the words that came out were ice.

"It wasn't an earthquake. It was a blast test. I designed it."

"Your experiment was almost done. Sheila's depression flared up and she collapsed at home."

"Eudora Swanson, stop competing with her. Once Sheila is better, I'll give you a wedding to make up for it."

Fine. This time, I won't compete.

...

Outside the door, I heard my brother's voice.

"Isn't this too cruel? With your skill, you could have saved that leg!"

Stanley didn't care.

"Eudora always has to one-up everyone. Crippling this leg is the only way she'll settle down and stop fighting Sheila for attention."

My brother hesitated. "But she's about to leave for the competition abroad. Without her leg, how is she supposed to dance..."

"Eudora has me. She doesn't need to be out there in the spotlight. She's the young Mrs. Henson. Who would dare say a word if she's down a leg? I'll protect her for the rest of her life."

My brother went quiet.

The leg that wasn't there anymore flared white-hot, and I went bloodless and silent under it.

Stanley came in and touched my forehead, anxious.

"What is it? Where does it hurt?"

But I'd noticed the ring on his hand.

It wasn't our engagement ring.

He curled his fingers in on instinct. "The girl wouldn't let it go. I put it on to humor her."

I looked at the lone ring on my own hand and laughed at myself.

Before, no matter how I begged, he refused to wear it. Turned out it was never about surgery getting in the way. He just hadn't wanted to.

I slid the ring off. "Take it back."

Stanley laughed. "Throwing a tantrum again! You think this is something you just hand back? I only put it on because Sheila had an episode."

I looked at him, steady. "And that one's something you can just put on?"

The gentle mask finally cracked.

"This too? You'll compete over this too? If you hadn't stolen twenty years of Sheila's life and her fortune, she wouldn't be sick, and I wouldn't have to make it up to her. And anyway, the one engaged to me should have been Sheila all along."

The room went silent for a beat.

Stanley knew he'd said too much. His voice softened.

"That's not what I meant. Be good. Once she's well, I'll give you something grand to make up for"

I cut him off. "Don't bother. I'll go. I'll leave you two to be happy."

His hand stilled, then he laughed again.

"Go? Where? Your orphanage? Make me come chasing after you in a big production to feed your vanity? Pulling these little stunts for attention every day. Don't you get tired, Eudora?"

I started to explain. No. This time it's abroad. I'm not coming back.

Sheila's ringtone went off.

"Stanley, Sheila pricked her finger, it's bleeding, it's so scary! Am I going to die?"

Stanley grabbed his coat.

"How were you so careless? Don't move, wait for me, I'm coming."

He never looked at me once, not even leaving.

I laughed at myself and looked at the empty space where my legs should be.

I thought of the 386 calls I'd made to him, all the rambling little messages I'd sent into a phone that never lit up with an answer, and only then did it sink in.

The one he carried in his heart was never me.

The ring was still lying in my palm. I opened my hand and let it roll to the floor.

Stanley. You've thrown me away too many times.

This time, I'm not waiting for you.

Inside the mansion, Sheila was trying on the wedding gown.

She rose onto her toes and turned in a slow, graceful circle.

I thought of the intimate photos she'd sent me.

"Sister, you trained Stanley so beautifully. I'm very pleased with him."

Rhys watched her with open indulgence, and Stanley turned his head to warn me. "Sheila's in a good mood today. Smile. Stop sitting there with that face."

I didn't answer. I just stared down at the bloodstained hem in the trash can.

Sheila gasped and stumbled back into Stanley's arms.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm so sorry, sister. Fluffy got hurt, and I used your dance dress by accident. You won't be angry with me, will you?"

My dance dress hung at the very back of the closet. It must have taken real effort to use it by accident.

Stanley brushed the tip of her nose, his voice soft with affection.

"She doesn't even have her leg anymore. What does she need a dance dress for? Everything she owns belongs to the Masons. It all belongs to you, little princess."

"Eudora. Smile. Don't upset Sheila."

I said nothing. I wheeled myself over to the trash can and, with difficulty, dug the dance dress back out.

Rhys's jaw tightened, and the words came out flat with impatience.

"Can you not fight Sheila over every single thing? You don't even have a leg, and you're still thinking about dresses, still competing with her? Her depression just lifted, the first thing she wanted was to bring you home from the hospital, and all you know how to do is fight with her!"

I lifted the dance dress with effort and held it out to Rhys.

"That's not it, brother. I only wanted to return it to its owner."

Rhys froze. He remembered. This dance dress was the one he'd given Eudora the year she turned eighteen.

Their mother had died young. From the time he was ten, it had been just him and his little sister, leaning on each other to survive. Their father had poured his whole heart into his mistress, and would have been glad to see his son dead, to clear the way for the bastard child.

They hadn't dared hire a nanny. Eudora was three years younger, a scrap of a thing who stood at the stove every morning to make his breakfast. She quit her dance lessons. On the way to school she held his hand tight, terrified of watching their father put him in the hospital again.

Back then he'd sworn that when he grew up, he would buy his sister a new dance dress every year, and that in her graduation year he would watch her shine on a stage.

I spoke calmly. "Mr. Mason, since this dress was your gift to your sister, I don't want it anymore."

And neither do I want you for a brother.

Rhys frowned. He took a step toward me.

"What did you just call me? Mr. Mason?"

Sheila suddenly shrieked.

"Blood! No! Get it away from me!" Her hands flailed wildly, and Stanley pulled her against him, frantic, murmuring to soothe her.

Rhys flew into a rage. He slapped the dress out of my hands, hard enough that my wheelchair tilted sideways.

"Enough! So this is what you were scheming! I already told you, Sheila coming back changes nothing for you, so why can't you make room for her!"

Sheila hiccuped through her sobs, and then her eyes rolled back and she fainted.

"Sheila!"

Rhys lunged forward and knocked my wheelchair over.

I hit the floor hard.

"Doctor! Doctor!"

The two men carried Sheila off in a rush.

The mansion went quiet.

I thought, all at once, of the year I was ten, the year my father staged a car crash. He meant to kill Rhys, and I shoved him out of the way.

When I went down on the road, the boy came tearing toward me like he'd lost his mind.

His own arm was broken, and still he tried to lift me, again and again, and when he failed he sobbed like something was being ripped out of him, slamming his head against the pavement toward the crowd. "Please, I'm begging you, take my sister to the hospital! She can't die, she's all I have..."

It became a huge scandal. Eventually it made the local news, and our father was arrested and sent to prison, and only then did we escape those days of living in fear.

By now, Rhys was no longer the fragile boy he'd once been. He had a real sister. He had a corporation.

And me, the counterfeit, it was time I left.

A shrill ringtone cut through everything.

I grabbed the phone. Stanley.

"Sheila wants the chicken soup you make. No salt, remember. I'll send the driver in half an hour."

He hung up before I could answer.

I stared at the screen for a long moment, and the corners of my eyes went wet without warning.

I wiped at them carelessly, switched the phone off, and dragged myself back to the bedroom one step at a time.

There wasn't much to pack, really.

The day Sheila came home and saw my room, her eyes had reddened and her illness had flared.

So I'd been moved to the basement.

She had brought over a small box, weeping prettily as she told everyone, "At my old home I lived in a pigsty. Everything I owned fit in this one little box."

I took the cue. I picked up the box and filled it with nothing but the gifts Stanley had given me.

Back then, Stanley had been furious on my behalf.

"Why should you have to move to the basement the moment she shows up? The Masons have a dozen rooms. The woman's a snake, plain and simple. Don't worry. Once you marry me, all thirty of the Henson estates are yours. Live in whichever one you like. Stop crying, baby."

But it took one look at Sheila, and Stanley turned on me.

"Vivi, Sheila's had it so hard. You owe her too much. Let's push the wedding back."

I dropped that box of gifts into the trash.

I dug out paper and a pen and wrote it to Stanley one word at a time. "Let's break up."

Early the next morning, Stanley came for the bride.

His arm was around Sheila, the whole house loud and festive as they headed for the door, when he suddenly remembered me. "Where is she?"

For some reason a thread of panic ran through him.

He pushed past everyone holding him back, searching room by room until he found the basement, and when he saw me curled on the bed, the breath left him in relief.

Then his mouth opened, and what came out was an accusation.

"Sheila got up at four to do her makeup, all for you, and you're down here taking it easy?"

"She walked through your ceremony for you. The least you can do is get up and thank her at the reception."

I didn't move.

He stood at the edge of the bed, his face cold.

"What? You won't go? Then the orphanage funding"

I forced myself up off the bed. "I'll go."

But the second I climbed into the wheelchair, it dumped me hard to the floor.

One of the screws had come loose.

Stanley's first instinct was to rush over, but something stopped him cold. His feet rooted to the spot, and he sneered.

"Sheila told me she saw you tampering with the wheelchair, and I didn't believe her. Eudora, you'd really do this to yourself just to fight her for attention?"

"No, it was her, she"

His fingers dug into my jaw until it hurt.

"Pinning it on Sheila again? She's been with me all morning. Eudora, do you even think before you lie?"

"And besides, she only stood in to walk through the motions. You're the real bride. You can't even make room for her?"

Sheila was weeping, tears streaking her face. "Sister, I won the bet, yes, but if you don't want this, I can't ruin your wedding. I'll give him back to you right now."

She started peeling off the gown as she spoke, tears falling in fat drops, her hands shaking like she couldn't hold herself together.

In the chaos the pearl necklace scattered across the floor.

"Enough."

Stanley caught her hands and held them still.

But I couldn't look away from the pearls on the ground.

When Stanley confessed his feelings, he'd flown to Australia and pried each one open with his own hands. He'd said, "What I feel for you is like these pearls. Every single one is one of a kind."

And now that one of a kind belonged to Sheila too.

Out in the hall, noise eruptedreporters, a whole flood of them.

Stanley's face changed.

"You set this up? What are you having them write? That I crippled my own sister-in-law on her wedding day? Are you trying to destroy Sheila?"

"Fine. Then you can have a taste of this too!"

"Let the reporters in!"

I froze, and before I could make sense of it, I was thrown hard to the floor.

Reporters poured in, flashbulbs going off without pause.

"Sheila Mason is the wife I'm marrying. Eudora Swanson is nothing but a mistress who stole her sister's fianc!"

With that, Stanley shielded Sheila and left.

"Who'd have thought the brilliant dancer everyone admires could be this vicious in private!"

"Steals the real heiress's fianc, then frames her on top of it!"

"She deserved to lose that leg. Look how she seduced her own sister's fianc!"

One of the reporters started photographing the room.

"Mr. Henson really is generous, gifts worth tens of thousands handed over just like that! And Eudora's got quite the temper, throwing it in the trash?"

"There's a note here!"

"Let's break up..."

"Let me see! This has to be something Mr. Henson wrote to Eudora! She wouldn't let go, couldn't even bear to toss the breakup note!"

"Ugh, shameless!"

"Get a shot. Let everyone see what kind of woman clings on like this!"

The basement was a wreck.

Half an hour later, a convoy of press cars and vans swarmed the gates of the estate, dozens of them, engines idling and horns blaring as reporters spilled out toward the doors.