Shattered Bonds Between Us

Even up to the day of my father's burial, Marcus never once made the time to come.

All I heard were my father's last words as he held my hand before closing his eyes for the final time. "Marcus is a good man. He serves the country, so it's only right that he's busy. I don't blame him. Don't go back and start fights with him."

'But, Father, Marcus isn't busy with the military. He's busy keeping Julia company.'

I wiped away my tears, washed the bowls and chopsticks, and put everything neatly away.

The countdown to leaving had begun.

Six days left.

Day One.

I went alone to Colonel David Grant's office. He was Marcus' superior.

"Here's my divorce application with Marcus Hale. I hope the organization can approve it quickly," I said.

At that time, military personnel were required to submit a formal application to their superior officers for both marriage and divorce.

David's hand paused halfway as he lifted his cup. He immediately set it down and picked up the papers, reading carefully. When his eyes landed on the handwritten signatures from both Marcus and me, he let out a long sigh.

"You and Marcus always seemed so good together. How did it come to divorce?"

Yes. How did it come to this?

We had been introduced through a matchmaker. He was a promising young Captain at Fort Haven, and I was a gentle, kind elementary school teacher. Everyone said we were well matched.

However, ever since Julia returned, all I ever heard was: "Captain Hale really treats Miss Summers well."

I shook my head, pushing aside the thoughts clouding my mind. Then, I answered David's question, "Sir, you can't force matters of the heart. We just want to part peacefully."

He said nothing more and just placed the application into a drawer. "Come back in a couple of days to pick it up."

Leaving the office, I walked to the store near Fort Haven.

As soon as I reached the counter, my eyes landed on the shelf stacked with vanilla lotion. Five years of marriage, and I had never been willing to spend money on a single bottle for myself.

Noticing my gaze, Linda Hayes, the store clerk, chuckled and teased, "Just a few days ago, I saw Captain Hale buy five or six jars of vanilla lotion. Already gone through them all? Ms. Wilder, your husband treats you well."

My hand holding the item went rigid.

A few days ago, I wasn't even at home, and Marcus had never once given me vanilla lotion.

I thought of the scent I had smelled on him last night. My heart knew the truth: the vanilla lotion was for Julia.

Five years of managing his household, of laundry and cooking had never earned me a single bottle.

Julia's return earned her five or six.

I couldn't tell whether the greater weight inside me was grief or anger. Meeting Linda's envious smile, I said, "Give me a bottle. I'll buy it myself."

Day Five.

I picked up the approved divorce papers from David. Then I went straight to the school where I was teaching to hand in my resignation.

The semester hadn't yet started, so the office wasn't crowded.

When I reached my desk to pack my things, I found my notebook buried under a pile of items that weren't mine; they were stacked so high that every inch of space was taken.

My own notebook was crushed at the very bottom. By the time I pulled it out, it was so badly pressed that the creases would never smooth out.

A teacher at the neighboring desk leaned over and explained, "All that stuff belongs to the new Miss Summers. Captain Hale personally moved it in while you were gone. He said better to use the space than leave it empty."

That "Miss Summers" was Julia.

Just a month ago, she had divorced her husband and come back to Fairview City. Now she was working here as a substitute, just a temp teacher.

I gave a short, bitter laugh and pushed all of her things onto the floor before continuing to pack my own.

I was nearly done when a startled gasp came from the doorway.

Julia stood there, and behind her was Marcus.

"Marcus, look," Julia said, her voice trembling with indignation. "My things are on the floor!"

Marcus stepped forward, and the first words out of his mouth were blame.