Chapter 12
The morning after Tyler promised two days, I woke to the chain still there.
I heard it before I saw it. The refrigerator hummed and the chain ticked against the steel when the compressor kicked on. I stood in the kitchen doorway in socks and watched the brass padlock catch the light. I didn't touch the fridge. I made coffee and drank it black because the milk was behind the lock.
Tyler came down at 7:14. He'd put on shoes like he was going somewhere. He looked at the fridge, then at me, and said he would handle it before work.
My name is Jenna. I was thirty-four and I paid for the groceries locked behind that chain.
That was day one.
He waited until Diane was at the kitchen table with her crossword. She had her reading glasses low on her nose and her tea steaming. The kitchen smelled like toast she had made for herself.
Tyler stood behind the island. He kept his hands in his pockets. "Mom, can I have the key to the fridge lock?" he said. His voice was even, like he'd rehearsed it.
Diane didn't look up right away. She wrote a word in ink. Then she set her pen down.
"No," she said. "You can't keep undoing what I put in place."
"It's not working," he said. "Jenna can't eat. I can't keep doing this."
Diane stood and walked to the junk drawer by the stove. She pulled it open and I saw the glint of brass inside. She picked up the small key and closed her fist around it. She didn't argue. She walked past us down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door. I heard her dresser drawer open and shut.
Tyler stared at the hallway. He didn't follow her.
"She hid it," I said.
He nodded. "I'll figure something else out."
After Diane left for her appointment, Tyler went to the garage. I followed him to the doorway and watched. He pulled the tool chest open and lifted out the bolt cutters. They were heavy and rusted at the joint. He tested the handles once. The metal squeaked.
"Do you know how to use those?" I asked.
"I watched a video," he said. He didn't look sure. He carried them into the kitchen and set them on the island. The chain hung exactly where it had yesterday, looped through both handles. He positioned the cutters around a link and squeezed. His arms shook. The cutters slipped and clanged against the fridge door, leaving a gray scuff on the steel.
He tried again, grunting. Nothing gave. The chain was thicker than the tool could handle.
"We need bigger ones," he said, breathing hard. "From the hardware store."
We drove separate. He didn't want me in the store with him. I followed his truck to the hardware store parking lot on Route 9 and parked two spaces over. Through the windshield I watched him go in. Five minutes later he came out with a long, new pair of bolt cutters in a plastic sleeve, the price tag still on.
He didn't come back to the car. He sat on the tailgate of his truck and called someone. I could see his shoulders rise. He was on the phone with his mom.
I got out and stood where he could see me but not hear me. He said, "Mom, I already bought them," and then a long pause. Then, "I know you said no, but we can't keep the food locked."
Diane's voice was thin through the phone but I couldn't make out words. Tyler's face tightened. He looked at the new cutters, then at the store behind him, then down at his boots.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay, I won't. I just don't want you upset."
He ended the call and sat there another minute with the cutters across his knees. Then he stood, carried them back inside the store, and came out empty-handed. The receipt was folded in his hand.
He walked to my car. "She said if I cut it she'll change the locks while we're at work," he said. "She said it's her house and I need to respect that. She said she'd call her sister to stay here if I did it."
"So you're not going to cut it," I said.
"I need another way to talk her into it," he said. "She just needs time."
I looked at the store doors closing behind him. "You had the tool in your hands, Tyler."
He didn't answer.
Day two ended the way day one had, with the chain on. I heated a can of soup on the stove because it was the only thing in the pantry that didn't need the fridge. Tyler ate standing up. Diane ate yogurt she'd taken out that morning before she locked it again. No one mentioned the deadline.
I washed my bowl and set it down harder than I needed to. I turned to Tyler where he leaned against the counter.
"Your two days are up," I said.
He glanced toward Diane's room. "Give her till the weekend. She's calming down."
"She hid the key," I said. "You bought the cutters and returned them. You didn't remove anything."
He rubbed his eyes. "I tried, Jenna."
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"You asked and you quit when she said no," I said. "That's not removing the chain."
Diane's door stayed closed. The padlock stayed locked. I stood in my kitchen and realized I wasn't waiting for Tyler to fix it anymore. I was just watching him prove he wouldn't.
