Chapter 2: The Walk Past the Arched Window
I didn't look back at the table when I stood. The chair legs scraped against the wood floor and that sound was louder than anything anyone had said.
The arched window was to my left as I moved. The sheer curtains filtered the late afternoon light and I could see dust in it, just hanging there. My mother's crystal glass was still where she'd left it, a ring of water underneath it on the polished table. I kept my eyes on the hallway doorway and walked in profile past it, one foot in front of the other, steady. I didn't rush. If I rushed it would look like I was running.
Behind me I heard Ethan's chair shift. Then his footsteps. He didn't call out right away.
" Maya," he said quietly, a step behind me.
I kept walking. The hallway was narrow and the runner muted my socks. On the wall were the framed photos in their perfect line. Chloe's school portrait from last fall, her blonde hair bright, my mom and dad at the lake house, me at sixteen with my hair pulled back. I didn't stop to look at any of them.
Ethan caught up near the foyer where the hall opened up. He didn't touch my arm. He just fell into step beside me and kept his voice low enough that they wouldn't hear us from the dining room.
"Hey," he said. "You don't have to decide everything this second."
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and finally looked at him. His navy sweater was creased from sitting. His expression was tight, concerned, but he wasn't trying to block me.
"I'm not deciding," I said. "I already did."
He nodded once, breathing out. "Okay. What do you need?"
"Just my keys. And a bag."
I went up the stairs two at a time. My room was at the end, the one with the better light, the one that used to be mine since I was eight. The door was open. My bed was made, the navy comforter tucked, my desk with the chipped lamp and the stack of library books I hadn't returned yet. For a second I just stood in the doorway and let it hit me that I was about to leave it.
I didn't pack much. I pulled the old gray duffel from the floor of my closet and unzipped it. I put in two pairs of jeans, three shirts, socks and underwear, the striped sweater I was wearing I would keep on. I grabbed my phone charger, my toothbrush from the bathroom, the small envelope in my desk drawer where I kept two hundred dollars in cash and my debit card. My car keys were on the dresser next to the porcelain dish where I kept hair ties. I took the keys and left the dish.
I left everything else. The bookshelf full. The winter coat on the hook. The photos taped to the mirror. If I took everything it would look like I was never coming back because I was throwing a fit. If I left most of it, it was a choice.
Ethan stood in the doorway while I zipped the bag. He didn't offer to pack for me. He just watched.
"You sure you don't want the other bag?" he asked. "For your laptop?"
"It's already in my car," I said. My backpack was in the trunk from campus yesterday. That was enough.
Downstairs, the dining room had gone silent. I could hear the faint tick of the kitchen clock from the hallway. When I came back down with the duffel over my shoulder, my mom was still at the table. She hadn't moved from her chair, her emerald blouse bright against the dark wood, hands flat on the table around that white teacup. Chloe sat beside her, shoulders hunched in her light tweed jacket, eyes on her plate. Neither of them said anything. My mom didn't look up as I passed the archway.
That was the whole point. She'd given me the choice. I'd made it.
Ethan followed me to the front foyer. The air there was cooler by the front door where the draft came in. I set the duffel down for a second to get my shoes on, old sneakers by the mat. My fingers were steady. I could hear my own breathing.
"Maya," Ethan said behind me. "You can call me when you get wherever you're going, right? Even if it's just a parking lot for tonight?"
I stood up and pulled the duffel strap onto my shoulder. "Yeah," I said. "I will."
He reached for the door handle before I could and opened it for me, not because I couldn't do it but to let me go first.
May you like
Outside the air had turned sharp. The front porch light wasn't on yet. My old sedan was parked at the curb where I'd left it that morning, the driver's side door clearly visible past the short walkway and the mailbox. The sky was going gray-blue. I stepped out onto the concrete step and felt the weight of the duffel pull on my shoulder.
I didn't turn around to see if my mom was watching from the arched window. I just started down the walk toward the car with my keys tight in my hand. Behind me I heard the door stay open, Ethan still standing in the doorway where I'd left him.
