Thanks for Taking Out the Trash

This Thanksgiving, Elmer Fuller finally agrees to go on a trip with me.

But when I wake up in the hotel, I don't see him anywhere.

I spend the entire day desperately searching for him, only to stumble across a social media post from his first love.

It's a selfie of her and Elmer having a cozy family dinner with her parents. The caption reads, "Someone's finally meeting the parents on Thanksgiving night. Mom and Dad can stop pressuring me to get married now!"

Around her neck is the scarf my mother knitted for me before she passed.

I left a comment. "Stop using my things to flirt with my husband. Take the scarf off—you can have him."

Not long after, she posts an update.

The scarf is shredded into pieces and tossed into a dog bed, with the caption, "What trash—too filthy even for a dog!"

Elmer likes the post.

"Moira, Risa's family was pressuring her like crazy. She had no choice but to ask me to pretend to be her boyfriend. We just needed to get through Thanksgiving, it's not like we're actually dating.

"But then you had to leave that passive-aggressive comment on her post. Who else did you think she was gonna take it out on?"

Elmer Fuller had called me not long after I commented, trying to explain why he had ditched me at the hotel.

But I couldn't calm down.

"I'm not joking, Elmer. You gave her the scarf my mom left me before she died. I want a divorce."

Then I heard Larissa Marrow crying on the other end of the line.

"Moira, I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I'll replace the scarf. I didn't mean to upset you. Please don't fight with Elmer."

Every time Larissa cried, Elmer forgot everything else. And sure enough, his voice turned sharp with impatience.

"Moira Stephenson! It's just a stupid scarf. Are you gonna keep harping on this? You've ruined Thanksgiving for everyone. Are you happy now? I'm not coming back. Think about what you've done."

Then he hung up.

When I tried to message him, I saw that I had been blocked.

My nails dug deep into my palms.

In a city that wasn't mine, with fireworks lighting up a thousand homes, I sat alone on the hotel bed in the dark. I buried my face in my knees and sobbed until I couldn't breathe.

…

I regretted bringing that scarf the moment I left home.

I could still picture my mom, frail and fading, carefully knitting the last rows. Her sunken face lit up with the softest smile.

"Here, try this on. I made it for you. When it gets cold, wear it, okay? That way, I won't worry."

There wasn't a scarf in the world warmer than that one. And now it had been unraveled, thrown into a dog kennel, and soaked in filth.

I didn't stay for the rest of the trip. I went straight home.

Elmer came back two days later.

I was sitting on the couch when he walked in and tossed a scarf at my head, the tags still on. He was grinning like nothing had happened.

"Here. Risa bought it for you. Cost her a pretty penny."

I stared at the scarf, its rough, careless stitching glaring back at me. My face stayed blank as I tossed it straight into the trash.

"That one was hand-knit by my mom. This piece of crap doesn't even come close."

Elmer frowned when he saw the scarf in the bin, then sat down beside me.

"I know. But the dead won't come back, Moira. What's gone is gone. Risa didn't mean any harm, and it was you who pissed her off first, wasn't it? Come on, don't be mad."

He reached out like he always did, trying to pat my head.

I avoided his touch.

His hand froze mid-air, awkward, then slowly dropped back to his side. He looked down at the bowl in front of me.

"You didn't make me any?"

I took a sip of soup without looking at him. "Are you stupid? Why not have dinner with Larissa before coming back?"

"Moey, what kind of thing is that to say?"

He tried to scoot closer, his voice soft and coaxing. "Come on, it's you and me. We're a family."

I set the bowl down. "Let's get a divorce."

…

Elmer froze.

"What did you just say?"

I pulled out the divorce papers I had already prepared and handed them to him. "Take a look. If there's anything you don't agree with, we can talk."

He pushed the papers away without even glancing at them. "Why?" he asked.

Then he reached into the trash and picked up the scarf. "Don't tell me this is all because of this?"

"It's all because of this," I said flatly.

His jaw tightened.

He hurled the scarf back into the trash and got up, pacing the room. "How many times do I have to tell you? Me and her, it was just an act!"