The Road North and South, You Must Walk It Alone

The day my pregnancy was confirmed, my husband forced me to get rid of the baby.

When I demanded to know why, his eyes were full of tenderness,

but his voice was merciless.

Madeline Winfield found out today that her uterus is deformed. She'll never be a mother, not in this life.

Bringing this baby into the world would only torment her. Let's give it up together, for her sake. Please?

Another one of these suffocating collective punishments.

When Madeline couldn't sleep, he cut the power to the whole apartment and made me stay awake all night with her.

When Madeline got harassed online, he paid someone to pour red paint over my car so I could taste her panic for myself.

He always thought that as long as he bought me a bag afterward,

or cooked me a meal, I'd forgive him like I always had.

The anesthesia dragged my mind under,

and I stared, hard, at the face that had once taken a knife for me.

"Fine. As you wish."

...

1.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital room, unable to move.

The last time I'd been in a hospital was two years ago.

My period had come and the cramps were so bad I couldn't straighten my back.

Otis James had been so frantic he barely got his shoes on before he scooped me up and rushed me here.

He carried a little notebook and wrote down every instruction the doctor gave.

He stayed at my side a full day and night without so much as loosening his clothes, not daring to close his eyes.

He made warm ginger tea with his own hands, the temperature just right, sweet on my tongue, warm all the way through.

But now, in this large hospital room, there was only me.

The anesthesia had fully worn off, and a fine, relentless cramping twisted through my lower belly.

Like countless knives, carving the flesh off me piece by piece.

I was instantly awake.

My baby was gone.

For one of Madeline's tears, he had actually killed my child with his own hands.

I pressed a hand over my flat stomach and sobbed until I couldn't breathe.

A nurse walked in carrying a tray of medicine, her tone surprised.

"Where's your husband? You just had a D&C. How could he leave you here all alone?"

I bit down on my bloodless lip and said nothing.

The nurse sighed, shook her head, changed my medication, and left.

My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was Otis.

"Agnes Simmons, Madeline is still crying. She's really unstable right now, so try to understand."

"Once I've calmed her down, I'll come straight back to you."

On the other end, I could hear Madeline's tearful voice.

"Otis, I'm not even a whole woman anymore..."

"Don't be scared, Madeline. I'm here."

Before I could get a word out, the call was hung up in a hurry.

My heart didn't ache anymore. I was used to it.

In all these days I'd been in the hospital, he'd come only once.

He brought a basket of fruit and said a few hollow words of comfort.

Every other sentence had "Madeline" in it.

I grabbed the glass vase off the table and hurled it down hard by his feet.

He frowned, spat out the word "impossible," and turned and walked away.

Over these six days, walking, eating, going to the bathroom had become the cruelest torture I could endure.

I dragged myself along, one hand braced against the wall, losing count of how many strangers in nearby beds I'd had to trouble.

Before this, even if I only caught a cold and sneezed,

he'd been terrified I might suffer, terrified I might be uncomfortable.

But now, I had just lost a child.

The seventh day after the loss.

It wasn't too much to ask the executioner himself to come and repent.

I called Otis, my voice cold.

"Come to the hospital today!"

He clearly hesitated. Then he agreed.

It was fully dark before Otis showed up.

Looking at how worn down I was, he sighed,

and just as he picked up the kettle to go get me some hot water, his phone rang.

He answered, and his face changed.

"Agnes, the power's out at Madeline's place. She's afraid of the dark. I have to go over right now."

He grabbed his coat, ready to leave.

Seven days of rage packed down inside me finally broke loose.

"Otis, do you even know what day it is today?!"

He stopped, turned back, his whole face full of disgust for me.

"Madeline is scared right now! What day is so important it can't wait?"

"When did you become so vicious?"

That look, so certain I was just throwing a tantrum, made me sick.

"Today is the seventh day since our baby died!"

"He never even got one look at this world, and you feel nothing? No guilt at all?"

My whole body shook, and the tears broke like a dam.

Otis only paused for a beat.

"It was just a formless clot of blood. What seventh day are you talking about?"

"If you want one so badly, once Madeline is stable again, I'll help you get pregnant with another. That's all."

He said it as if it were nothing.

So in his heart, our own flesh and blood was nothing more than a formless clot of blood.

My nails dug deep into my palms, and I couldn't feel the pain at all.

Seven years.

Those beautiful vows felt like they were made just yesterday.

Now, all I felt was how utterly absurd it was.

The day I was discharged, New York got hit with a blizzard the likes of which it hadn't seen in decades.

Otis parked the car outside the hospital.

He spent the whole time on the phone, buried in work.

He never got out to help me.

Wrapped in a thin down jacket, one hand pressed to the dull ache in my lower belly, I dragged myself into the car.

My body had nothing left in it.

The heater was running, but I was so cold my teeth were chattering.

I looked at the cold man beside me.

And I couldn't help asking myself,

where had that boy gone, the one who used to fret for ages just because I furrowed my brow?

We were halfway home.

His phone rang.

"Otis! Someone's following me! I'm so scared where are you, save me"

Madeline's voice was shot through with terror.

Otis went pale and slammed on the brakes.

I couldn't brace in time. My head cracked against the window and the world spun.

"Don't be scared, Madeline! Find somewhere with a lot of people and stay put, I'm coming right now!"

He turned to look at me, and there was nothing in his eyes but irritation.

"Agnes, Madeline's being followed. It's dangerous."

"Get out and grab a cab home on your own."

I stared at him, not believing it.

"Otis, there's a blizzard out there, we're on the overpass, and I just got out of the hospital"

"How hard can it be to catch a cab? Do you have to be so precious right now?"

He shoved open the passenger door, leaned half his body across, and pushed me out without a shred of mercy.

The engine roared, and in the blink of an eye his car vanished into the snow.

Leaving just me, like the whole world had thrown me away.

I stood at the side of the road for a long time, holding out my hand for a car. No one would stop.

My whole body was frozen stiff.

My vision kept going black, the ache dragging down through my belly.

But all I could do was inch, step by step, toward home.

My shoes and socks were soaked through, my feet numb with cold, every step like walking on knife blades.

A stretch of road only a few miles long took me over two whole hours.

By the time I got home, my face was ashen and my lips had gone blue.

When the housekeeper opened the door and saw me, she screamed in fright.

"Ma'am, how did you end up like this!"

I didn't even have the strength to speak. I collapsed straight onto the couch.

The housekeeper rushed to wrap me in a blanket, then called the private doctor we knew to come over.

My arms were bruised purple from falling in the snow, so battered they couldn't even find a vein.

The doctor had no choice but to put the needle into the top of my foot.

Cold fluid dripped, drop by drop, into my broken, ruined body.

And all at once I felt that these seven years of love had come to nothing at all.

After the IV finished, I forced my weak body upright

and settled the housekeeper's wages in full.

I was leaving this place of heartbreak for good.

Once she was gone, the huge house went terrifyingly quiet.

I looked around at the couch in the living room, the wall of photos in the hallway, the big bed in the bedroom.

Every corner held seven years of Otis and me.

The sweetness we'd once had felt like nothing but mockery now.

I dialed Otis's number.

A soft, delicate woman's voice came through.

It was Madeline.

"Is this his wife?"

"Otis is in the shower. He got soaked tonight protecting me."

"He's not coming home today. I'll take good care of him."

Whatever tenderness I had left in me drained away completely.

I sat on the couch and waited from dusk until dawn.

At six in the morning,

Otis pushed the door open, carrying the gardenia perfume I hated most.

It was the scent Madeline loved to wear.

He saw how haggard I looked, his eyes sweeping over the hospital bills on the coffee table,

and he let out a scoff, his tone mocking.

"You just want money from me, don't you? Did you really have to sit up all night playing the victim?"

He scrawled his name across the last sheet of paper.

Then he peeled off his coat and tossed it on the couch.

"Wash it and iron it flat. I need to wear it this afternoon."

With that, he didn't spare me a single glance, turning to go catch up on sleep.

I lifted my eyes to the collar.

A garish smear of lipstick stood out there, impossible to miss.

My stomach churned all at once, a violent wave of nausea sweeping through me.

I clamped a hand over my mouth and rushed into the bathroom, gagging over the toilet.

Tears welled up in my eyes on their own.

This marriage, this love, was filthy enough to make me sick.

I clamped a hand over my mouth and rushed into the bathroom, gagging over the toilet.

This marriage was filthy enough to make me sick.

Still, there was one thing that made me happy.

The last document he'd signed was our divorce agreement.

I put the divorce papers away, and my mind was perfectly clear.

I started scrolling online for a decent place to rent.

Bit by bit, I began packing up my things.

Getting ready to leave.

That evening, for once, Otis came home early.

He kicked off his shoes carelessly and asked, offhand,

"Where'd you put that set of gold jewelry of yours?"

My hands went still, and I looked up at him.

That pure-gold set was the dowry my grandmother had pressed into my hands with her own hands before she died.

A full set of wedding jewelry passed down for generations, weighty with meaning.

Grandmother said it was a charm to keep me safe and see me through life.

I kept my voice cold.

"Why are you asking?"

Otis suddenly reached out and pinched my cheek, his tone easy.

"Why so tense?"

"There's a gala at the company tonight, and I need some traditional-style accessories. I'll borrow them, and give them back tomorrow."

He was lying. His company was in internet tech. What gala there could possibly call for traditional-style jewelry?

I couldn't be bothered to call him out. I just refused.

"They're not here. I put them in a safe-deposit box at the bank."

Otis's face darkened, and he slammed the door on his way out.

That night, I turned on the TV,

and a grand charity gala popped up on the screen.

Madeline was the center of attention in a red couture gown.

And at her throat, her wrists, her ears.

That pure-gold set of mine, glittering under the lights.

So he'd dug through my jewelry box long ago.

The camera cut to a close-up, and the host, all admiration, praised her with a smile.

"Miss Winfield, this heirloom gold set is exquisite, the craftsmanship superb. A truly rare treasure!"

Madeline was glowing with pride.

"Thank you. It's a family heirloom of mine. I wore it out especially today."

In an instant my blood surged, and my chest felt like a hand had closed hard around it.

My grandmother's dowry to me!

How had it become hers?

I didn't care how weak my body was,

I rushed out the door and took a cab straight to the gala.

The ballroom blazed with light.

I pushed past the security guard and locked onto the two of them in the crowd at a glance.

Otis, in a tailored suit, stood guard at Madeline's side, his eyes doting.

For a dazed moment, I felt like I was back four years ago.

At our college graduation party, he had looked at me just like that, so full of feeling, announcing to everyone that I was his only one.

Now everything had changed, and the one who drew his gaze was long since someone else.

I strode forward, my voice trembling.

"Give the jewelry back to me!"

The whole room fell silent in an instant.

Every eye landed on me at once.

Madeline paled, like a startled doe, and shrank timidly behind Otis.

Otis's brow furrowed. He looked at my pale face without a trace of pity.

"Agnes, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"This is obviously Madeline's family heirloom. You can be jealous of her, but you don't have to stoop to something this low!"

It struck me like a bolt of lightning.

He'd taken my grandmother's keepsake to curry favor with his mistress.

Made me carry the blame in front of everyone.

What a fine husband I had!

He charged forward, seized my wrist, and dragged me toward the doors.

He hauled me out of the ballroom, his voice full of blame.

"Are you done making a scene? It's just a set of jewelry. Madeline only borrowed it to wear, to keep up appearances!"

"Can't you be a little more reasonable?"

The whole thing struck me as absurd, almost funny.

I ask for my own things back and that makes me the unreasonable one?

"They're mine, Otis!"

Just then, from the ballroom behind me,

a wave of fervent cheers and applause suddenly broke out.

A sense of dread swept over my whole body.

I shoved Otis away and rushed back into the ballroom.

Madeline stood up on the high stage.

She smiled gently, holding a microphone, like a saint come down to earth.

"Thank you all for your love. This set of jewelry carries so much goodwill."

"But I know deep down that true love knows no bounds. So I've decided to melt this heirloom down, right here and now!"

"Every cent it brings will go to children who can't afford school in poor mountain regions, to help more people who need it!"

The moment she finished, the room thundered with applause.

Everyone was praising her, beautiful and kind-hearted.

"You can't!"

My eyes felt like they'd tear open. I screamed before I could think.

But the furnace was already prepared.

The gleaming gold bridal tiara, the gold hairpin, the bracelets...

taken off one by one and thrown mercilessly into the fire.

I was held down below the stage, watching them warp and melt in the flames, bit by bit.

Until nothing was left.

Tears blurred my sight.

I was shaking all over, my chest aching so badly I could barely stand.

Otis stood beside me, a flicker of barely perceptible guilt in his eyes.

He reached out to take my hand, but his tone was as cold as ever.

"That's enough, stop crying."

"Madeline was doing it for charity. I'll buy you better ones later, ten sets!"

But I knew none of them could ever replace it.

Every swallowed grievance broke loose in that moment.

I raised my hand hard and struck Otis across the face.

His face snapped to one side,

and he froze, tongue running instinctively along the inside of his cheek.

As if he couldn't believe that I, always so meek, had dared to hit him.

"Agnes!"

I ignored his roar and stumbled away.

I didn't know where to go, or where I was supposed to go.

Just as my strength gave out,

a coat, still warm with someone's body heat, settled over my shoulders.

"Miss Simmons, come with me."