The Lamplight Shines on Me, Not on the Past

The day I went to meet the Stephens family, Samuel Stephens's childhood friend, Candice Manning, set a cup of pale yellow liquid down in front of me.

This is boy's urine, sis. Drink it while it's warm.

Every relative at the table looked at me at once, and not one of them looked surprised.

Before I could even react, Candice pulled out a few tarot cards and explained with a pained expression on her face.

"I just did a reading for Samuel. Your marriage is fated barren of sons."

"Even if you have a child someday, it won't be a boy."

I gripped the napkin in my hand and looked at Samuel.

But he only poured Candice a cup of warm water and praised her gently. "You just got off the plane and you're already worrying about me. Thank you."

Candice looked as though she couldn't bear it, and pushed the cup of boy's urine a little closer to me.

"The master taught me how to break it. As long as you drink this and push the wedding back two years, it'll ward off the misfortune for Samuel."

I thought Samuel would at least find the whole thing absurd.

Instead he came to my side and ruffled my hair affectionately.

"Of course I don't believe in any of this, but drinking it would put everyone at ease. Why insist on making an issue of it?"

"You've already waited seven years for me. You won't let one little sip beat you, will you?"

That was the moment I understood. What I'd waited seven years for had never been a marriage. It was his certainty that I would never leave, and the contempt that came with it.

I slid off my engagement ring, dropped it into that so-called "misfortune-warding" water, and pushed it back in front of Samuel.

"If it's meant to ward off your misfortune, then you should be the one to drink it."

Samuel didn't drink.

He just stared at the ring at the bottom of the cup, and the smile on his face sank, degree by degree.

"Zoey Fox, don't make this ugly."

I asked him, "Who's the one making it ugly?"

Blanche Stephens let out a cold laugh at once.

"Not even married in yet and already talking back. Is this how your mother raised you?"

Candice hurried to steady her.

"Auntie, she's just jealous."

Then she looked at me, her eyes reddening.

"Sis, Samuel and I have known each other over twenty years. I really wasn't trying to take anything from you."

When Samuel heard that, his brow drew tighter.

"Candice, you don't have to explain."

Then he turned to me.

"She just got back into the country, running herself ragged over our wedding, and you can't even manage a thank-you. Instead you humiliate her."

I laughed.

"So on top of that cup of whatever it is, I'm supposed to thank her too?"

Samuel fished the ring out of the cup and tossed it onto a napkin.

"Wash it off and you can still wear it."

"I'm not wearing it."

The room went silent in an instant.

Blanche slapped the table and stood.

"Are you threatening us? We register the marriage tomorrow, the relatives have all been told, and now you say you won't wear it?"

I picked up my bag.

"The registration is off."

Samuel's eyes changed, and his hand closed around my wrist.

The grip wasn't hard, but it was his usual way of controlling a situation.

"Zoey."

"You got hurt today, I'll admit that."

"When we get back, I'll buy you that bracelet you were looking at last time."

"But don't make a scene in front of my elders. Leave me a little face."

He kept his voice low.

Only I knew it was a warning.

There had been a time when all he had to do was say my name like that and I would soften.

Because I was afraid of annoying him, afraid he'd think I didn't know better, afraid one flash of temper from me would ruin seven years.

In the third year, he said the company was just getting off the ground and he couldn't be distracted.

In the fifth year, he said his mother wasn't well, and to wait a little longer.

In the seventh year, he finally proposed, and I thought I had finally waited my way to a home.

Only later did I understand. It wasn't that he had no time to marry me. He was waiting for me to learn to give way without end.

But today, with his hand locked around my wrist, my stomach kept turning in waves of nausea.

I asked him, "Just now, when they called my mother a widow and said she was the reason my father died, why didn't you say anything?"

Samuel was silent for a moment.

"My mother's words are harsh, sure."

"And Candice meant well, even if it came out wrong."

"If you insist on picking apart every single line, how are we supposed to live together?"

Candice's tears spilled over.

"Samuel, why don't I just drink it."

"My life's worthless anyway. If it can ward off the misfortune for you, so much the better."

Samuel let go of me at once and pressed his hand over hers.

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

In that instant, I saw it clearly.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to protect someone. He just wouldn't protect me.

Blanche looked at me, her face full of disgust.

"Look at Candice, then look at you."

"The worst thing in a woman is a hard fate and a hard heart to match."

I settled my bag on my shoulder.

"Samuel, tomorrow I won't be going to the county clerk's office."

He sneered.

"Go or don't, suit yourself. Seven years in, you really think you can walk away?"

I didn't answer. I turned and walked toward the door.

Behind me came Candice's soft crying.

"Samuel, does she hate me now?"

Then Samuel's voice followed.

"She can't bring herself to hate anyone."

I suddenly remembered seven years ago, when he took my hand at my father's funeral and said, "Zoey, from now on you have me."

Only now did I understand. Some people only ache for you when you're at your most broken.

The moment you truly make them your family, they resent your wounds for the bad luck they bring.

When I got back to the wedding apartment, the door code had been changed.

It was only when the wrong-code error came up that I remembered.

Half an hour earlier, Samuel had texted to say Candice was going to cleanse the house, and he'd temporarily changed the code to her birthday.

Candice was wearing my slippers, draped in Samuel's jacket, a wooden ritual sword in her hand.

"You're back?"

There was a ring of yellow line drawn on the living room floor.

My wedding gown box, the red wedding quilt, the old photo albums, all of it heaped outside the line.

Like a pile of filth that wasn't allowed inside.

I walked over and opened the box on top.

My father's old photo fell out.

Four words in cinnabar on the back: "Dead kin curse the wedding."

My fingers froze.

It was the last photo he ever left behind.

In it, he was crouched in the yard tying a kite for me, his shirt washed pale, grinning like a fool.

Candice explained in a small voice.

"The master said keeping a dead person's photo in the wedding home crushes the couple's luck. I was only worried about you and Samuel down the road."

"Who told you you could touch it?" I asked.

Her eyes reddened.

"Don't be so harsh with me."

Samuel's voice came from the doorway.

"I'm the one who asked her to."

He came in with a pharmacy bag in his hand.

Seeing how pale I was, he tossed a box of stomach medicine onto the table.

"You didn't eat. Remember to take these."

"Don't make yourself sick and then say I don't take care of you."

I looked at the box, then at the cinnabar words on the back of the photo.

"Did you see this?"

Samuel gave it a glance.

"Wipe it off later."

"Wiping it off means it didn't happen?"

He tugged at his tie, his voice already impatient.

"Zoey, when did you get so hard to please?"

"I cleaned up the mess for you at dinner, and I came home and bought you medicine."

"Can't you cut me some slack, seeing I'm tired too, and stop clinging to a dead man?"

The room went quiet.

Candice covered her mouth, as if his words had frightened her.

But there was no shock in her eyes. Only a wet, glistening satisfaction.

I picked up the photo and held it.

"Samuel, that's my father."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I know."

"But you can't spend your whole life using your father's death to make everyone walk on eggshells."

"Candice was humiliated in public because of you, and my mother got so worked up she had a headache."

"You're wronged. Does that mean no one else is?"

I said nothing more.

When I went into the bedroom to get my documents, Candice's white dress was hanging in the closet.

My wedding gown had been shoved to the very bottom, a long tear split open at the waist.

Candice followed to the doorway, her voice trembling.

"I only tried it on. Samuel said we're about the same size. I never thought it would rip."

Samuel stood behind her.

"If it's torn, get it fixed."

I looked at the tear.

"My mother spent three months altering that gown for me."

He was silent for a second.

"Then I'll pay her for it."

I stuffed the gown into the suitcase, and Samuel's face finally changed.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving out."

"Over a photo and a dress?"

I looked up at him.

"Because nothing here gets any respect."

He gave a cold laugh.

"When it comes down to it, you just want me to send Candice away."

Candice's tears fell harder.

"Samuel, I should just go. Don't let me come between you two."

Samuel pressed a hand to her shoulder and looked at me.

"Zoey, if you really want to go, I won't stop you."

"But don't run a fever or get a stomachache in a couple of days and call me to come get you."

I pulled the suitcase up.

"Don't worry."

Before I shut the door, I heard Candice ask softly,

"Samuel, has she given up on you?"

Samuel was quiet for a moment, his voice certain.

"She won't."

"What she's most afraid of is me ignoring her. Once she cools off, she'll come back on her own."

The door closed.

In the elevator, I looked at my pale reflection in the mirror.

So he'd known all along what I was afraid of. That was why he'd dared to hand me the knife, again and again, with such a steady hand.

The next day, a crowd had gathered around my mother's little noodle diner.

By the time I got there, Candice was holding up her phone, livestreaming.

She wore a plain white dress, standing in the doorway, her voice as gentle as someone trying to smooth over a fight.

"Everyone, please don't yell at her."

"She's a single mom, that's all. It's only natural she's scared her daughter won't marry well."

"But with a family like Samuel's, the wedding really can't be too shabby."

The camera swung toward my mother.

She stood behind the stove, flour still on her hands.

She didn't know what a livestream was. She only knew a lot of people were pointing their phones at her and smiling.

Blanche sat at the diner's one round table, wiping the chair down with a tissue in disgust.

"Let me say this now, since we're going to be family."

"On the wedding day, don't come up on the stage."

"The second you open your mouth with that accent, people will think the Stephens family couldn't afford decent in-laws."

A relative beside her chimed in. "And don't sit at the head table either. A widow at the head table is bad luck."

My mother went frighteningly pale.

She said quietly, "I don't have to sit at the head table."

"I won't say a word. As long as Zoey's all right, I'll sit anywhere."

The more she gave way, the more they fed on it.

Candice pushed the phone closer.

"Auntie, you really are pitiful."

"But for Samuel and his bride's good fortune, it's only right that you put up with a little."

I rushed over and snatched the phone out of her hand.

The screen was flooded with comments.

"The widow mom sure knows how to milk the sob story."

"No wonder the daughter's got hard luck written all over her."

"The Stephens family got tangled up with people like this. Rotten luck."

I killed the livestream and threw the phone back into her arms.

"Get out."

Candice took half a step back, and tears fell at once.

"I only wanted to explain things for Auntie."

"Explain until the whole internet is cursing her?"

Blanche gave a cold laugh.

"Cursing her wrong, are they?"

"If your mother really had any pride, she wouldn't have her eye on the Stephens family's bride price."

My mother shook her head quickly.

"I never asked for a bride price."

Blanche slapped a red envelope down on the table.

"Ask for it now, same difference."

"Two hundred thousand."

"Take it, and on the wedding day don't sit at any table, don't say a word, and don't let anyone know you're Zoey Fox's mother."

My mother looked like she'd been struck across the face.

Her lips trembled a long time before she managed, "My daughter isn't sold to your family."

Samuel's voice came suddenly from the doorway.

"Mom."

The first thing he saw when he walked in was Candice with her red eyes, and the first thing he asked was, "Who upset you?"

My mother's hands were still shaking.

I laughed coldly.

"You came just in time. Take your mother and your girl-buddy out of here."

Only then did Samuel glance around at the wreckage of the diner.

"Mom, why don't you head home first."

Blanche laughed in fury.

"I clean up your mess for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

Samuel frowned, but he didn't argue with the word "mess."

He came over to me and held out a paper bag.

Inside was the chestnut cake I liked.

"You didn't eat last night. Have a little something first."

I looked at that paper bag.

He was always like this.

Letting other people trample me on one hand, and remembering exactly what I liked to eat on the other.

Candice said softly, "Samuel, don't only think about your bride. Auntie came all this way early this morning, and it was for your wedding too."

Samuel rubbed the space between his brows.

"Zoey, I know my mother's words were harsh."

"But the wedding isn't just about you."

"If there's no room at the head table, seating your mother close by amounts to the same thing."

I looked at him.

"There's room for your uncle's poker buddies, but no room for my mother?"

His face couldn't hold it.

"Do you have to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

"Who embarrassed my mother first?"

Samuel lowered his voice.

"Don't force me to lose face out here."

I asked quietly, "Samuel, have I ever forced you into anything?"

He stopped short.

In seven years I had never once made him choose, so every time he simply assumed I'd be the one to back down.

My mother took off her apron.

"Zoey, let's close up."

She lifted her head and looked at Samuel.

"Mr. Stephens, my daughter can feel pain too."

My eyes went red in an instant.

But Samuel just froze, as if it were the first time he'd realized my mother could say the word no.

I picked the red envelope up off the table, chased after him, and threw it back into his arms.

"Take it back."

"My mother isn't a prop your family buys to look respectable."

He gripped the envelope, his face grim.

"Zoey, are you really going to push this all the way?"

I steadied my mother.

"I'm not the one pushing it all the way."

"It's your family's door that my mother couldn't get through even on her knees."

"So I won't be going through it."

My mother was admitted to the hospital that same night.

The doctor said her blood pressure was too high and she'd had a bad shock, so she'd need to stay under observation for a couple of days.

She lay in the hospital bed, her fingers going numb from how awful she felt, and still she kept telling me,

Zoey, I'm fine.

If the wedding's called off, then it's called off.

I can still use my hands and feet. I can take care of myself.

The next day, around noon, I went down to pay the bill.

When I came back, the door to the room was half open.

Blanche's voice was coming from inside.

Don't you play sick.

Samuel's never had to put up with this kind of insult his whole life.

Zoey's gotten this bold all of a sudden. That's because you're behind her, isn't it?

Candice's voice came soft.

Auntie, don't say that.

Raising Zoey on her own can't have been easy for her.

It's just that a single-parent home does tend to raise a daughter who's too sensitive.

Inside the room, my mother struggled to sit up.

There was a contract laid out in front of her. After the marriage, the bride's mother could not live with them, could not take part in raising any children.

On the wedding day she would not sit at the head table, would not receive the tea ceremony.

She could not tell anyone she was related to the Stephens family.

My mother's fingers were shaking too hard to hold the pen.

I won't sign.

Blanche sneered.

That's fine too.

Then just wait and watch people laugh at your daughter for not being good enough to marry into money.

Candice sighed.

Auntie, don't cling to that little bit of pride.

Zoey waited seven years for Samuel. You can't ruin all seven of them for her, can you?

My mother slowly pushed the pen away.

My daughter can find a husband just fine.

And she isn't being sold to your family.

Blanche's face changed. She snatched up the contract and threw it at her.

I'm offering you respect and you throw it back in my face!

Pages scattered all across the bed.

My mother pressed a hand to her chest, her breathing turning fast and shallow.

I rushed in and hit the call button.

Get out!

Blanche took a step back at my shout.

Candice suddenly lunged over and grabbed me.

Zoey, don't get worked up. Auntie means well.

I shook her off.

As if she'd worked out the angle in advance, she threw her whole body into the nightstand.

The cup of hot water shattered, and water splashed onto her shin.

She screamed and dropped to the floor.

The next second, Samuel rushed into the room.

He barely looked at my mother in the bed. He crouched down first and gathered Candice up.

Where did it burn you?

Candice shook her head through her tears.

I'm fine. Check on Auntie first.

The more she said it, the more it tore at him.

He looked up at me, his eyes frighteningly cold.

Zoey, you'll actually shove someone now?

I pointed at the bed.

My mother can't breathe.

The nurse had already come running and was fitting my mother with oxygen.

The sound of the monitor set everyone's nerves on edge.

Samuel finally spared her a glance.

But then Candice drew a low, sharp breath.

Samuel, it hurts so much.

He picked her up at once.

I'll take you to get it treated.

I looked at him and couldn't get out a single word.

He reached the door, then stopped.

Zoey, stop using your mother's health to force me to back down.

A tear slid from the corner of my mother's eye.

It was so slight, and yet it shattered the last bit of reluctance I had left.

That night, my mother woke up.

She stared at the ceiling, her voice badly hoarse.

Zoey, I always used to be afraid you'd suffer on your own.

Now I understand.

Suffering alone, you can get through.

Marrying the wrong man is a lifetime with nowhere to run.

I held her hand.

Mom, I'm not marrying him.

She stroked my head.

Good.

Mom will take you home.

The next afternoon, I took her to my aunt's place in the next town over to recover.

Then I grabbed my documents and my luggage and went to the airport.

Six months ago the Seaford branch had asked whether I'd be willing to transfer.

I'd turned it down, for Samuel.

Now I said yes.

At the security checkpoint, Samuel caught up to me.

He had the washed-clean engagement ring in his hand, his breathing uneven.

Zoey, come back with me.

I looked at him.

Back where?

Home.

That isn't my home.

His voice went tight.

I'll handle the thing with my mother.

And I'll make Candice move out.

If your mother wants to sit at the head table, she sits there. If she wants me to serve her tea, I'll do it.

He said it in a rush, and with that pride he always had.

As if he was finally deigning to give ground, and I ought to be grateful for it.

I asked him, And if my mother had actually died today?

His face went pale.

Didn't the doctor say she was stable?

I laughed.

So even now, you still think it was nothing.

He finally panicked.

Zoey, I chased you all the way to the airport.

How much more do you want me to bend?

Weren't you always the one who hated to see me tired?

The announcement began calling for boarding.

I pried his fingers open one by one.

Samuel, I just don't want it anymore.

I looked at the ring in his hand.

Not the ring, not the wedding, not the Stephens family.

And not you either.

The color drained from his face, bit by bit.

Didn't you used to love me more than anything?

I dragged my suitcase through the security checkpoint.

I don't anymore.

The ring slipped from his palm, rolled past the security line, and got kicked away by someone hurrying past.