The last time I’d confronted Mark about her, he’d brought her to apologize. She’d reluctantly admitted to having a “crush” and called me her “future sister–in–law.” But she didn’t like me.
Women know these things. I ignored her and
showed the realtor around. When Sarah realized I was selling, she shrieked. “You can’t sell this
place!”
I held up the deed. “Actually, I can. I’m the
owner.”
She glared. “Mark paid for it!”
I shrugged. “And? He gave it to me. Ask him to
buy you one. Stop coveting other people’s
things.”
<
10:03
“You-!”
39+
I ignored her and finished the tour. The realtor
said the condo was prime real estate,
downtown Austin. It would sell fast, for a good
price. Good.
After the realtor left, I politely asked Sarah to leave. She refused. “Mark said I could stay as long as I want! You can’t make me go!” She
smirked. “Scared I’ll steal him?”
“You’re the other woman! If it wasn’t for you,
I’d be marrying him!”
I nodded. “Exactly. I’m making room for you.
You can have the man, not the condo.”
She refused to budge. I called the cops. When
they arrived, Sarah turned on the waterworks.
“This is my boyfriend’s place! This crazy
woman is trying to kick me out!”
<
10:03
394
I showed them my deed and marriage.
certificate, proving I was the owner, and that her “boyfriend” was still legally my husband.
The female officer gave her a look. Sarah finally
shut up, but she still refused to leave, just
sulking on the sofa.
The commotion attracted the neighbors.
Brenda, my divorced neighbor from across the
hall, came in. We’d become friendly when I was
decorating, her kids loved hanging out with me.
“Claire, honey, you’re finally back! Your
husband’s been bringing that girl around for
weeks. We all thought she was just a cousin or
something. But… well, she’s always hanging all
over him. Doesn’t seem very cousin–like, if your
know what I mean.”
I thanked Brenda, then turned to the officers.
“See? Witnesses.” Can I press charges for
trespassing?” They said yes. Sarah finally
packed her bags. Before leaving, she spat, “You’ll regret this!”
394
<
10:03
Sarah’s version of “regret” was telling Mark. I couldn’t reach him for days. When I finally got through, he hung up as soon as I mentioned divorce. Then he showed up at my door, in
Austin.
“Claire, come on, be reasonable. My parents are out of the country, where’s Sarah supposed to go?” Even though I was determined to leave
he hadn’t him, hearing that old nickname
called me “Claire–Bear” in ages – made my
heart skip a beat.
Mark chased me for four years in college. He proposed on graduation night, holding a pot of his famous shrimp and vermicelli stir–fry. Everyone else used flowers. Not Mark. He knew I’d grown up in foster care, quiet and shy, often bullied, often hungry. He said he wouldn’t give me roses, he’d give me fields of wheat. The
difference in our backgrounds made me
hesitant. He said, “This is my eighteenth
attempt. Don’t make me try a nineteenth time.”
The steam from the stir–fry made my eyes
water. Mark was great. The stir–fry was
delicious. I said yes.
After that, he always called me Claire–Bear.
“Claire–Bear, I made you dinner!” “Claire–Bear,
I registered the company! Just wait, I’ll take
care of you.” “Claire–Bear, marry me.” “Claire-
Bear, let’s have a baby.” A few months after
the wedding, it was just “Claire.” The warmth
was gone. Hearts change. Tears streamed down.
my face. Wiping them away, I heard myself say,
“Can you make me that stir–fry? I miss it.”
