Three, Two, One, I'm Gone novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: One More Round

Delia turns the Statue Game on Paige in front of the neighbors and takes her mother's brooch back, then finds the joint account emptied.

"Divorce," I said.

Nobody answered me.

Grant studied the floorboards, and Paige went on smiling.

"It's paper, Dee," she said. "It's never mattered. We only did it for his health insurance."

"For two years?" I asked.

"Two years in March," she said, and checked her nails.

I looked at Grant.

He had been on one knee in front of me a year ago, in a restaurant full of strangers, and promised me forever.

"Say something," I said.

"It doesn't change anything about us," he said.

I laughed.

It was a short, ugly laugh, and it hurt on the way out.

I zipped the suitcase and lifted it off the bed.

Paige got there first, fast and light, and stood in the bedroom doorway.

She had one hand pressed flat against her cardigan, high on the collar.

My mother's silver wren brooch was pinned there.

The small garnet eye of it caught the lamp.

"Take the suitcase," Paige said gently. "Take the sweaters. The brooch stays with me. It was a fair forfeit."

My ears rang.

"That brooch is the last thing my mother touched."

"Then you should have won the round," Paige said.

Grant finally spoke.

"Let it go, Dee. Don't make this uglier."

The door to the hallway was open behind them.

Three neighbors stood out there pretending to check their mail.

The woman from 4B had her phone out.

The man with the dog had stopped his dog in the middle of the hall.

I set the suitcase down.

"Fine," I said. "One more round."

Paige tilted her head.

"For the brooch?"

"For the brooch. And if I win, you hand it over in front of everyone."

Grant made a small noise of protest.

Paige put a hand on his arm and smiled at me.

Paige never turned down a round. She loved to win in front of people.

"Okay, Dee. But I call freeze. I always call it."

"Where does it say that?" I asked.

She blinked.

"The first night you taught us, you said anyone can call it," I said. "Grant's coworkers were there. You said anyone."

Her smile held, but it thinned.

"Anyone can call it," she said slowly.

"Then I call it," I said. "Freeze. The caller counts and may move. Everyone else holds still."

Grant froze at once.

He had played for three years, and his body did what it was told.

Paige froze a half second later, her chin up, because the neighbors were watching.

I walked toward her.

My hands were shaking, so I held them still at my sides.

"Three," I said.

I stopped an arm's length from her.

"Two."

I reached up to her collar.

Paige's eyes went wide.

She could not say a word without moving her mouth.

She could not pull away without moving her feet.

"One," I said, and unpinned the brooch.

It came free in my fingers, warm from her neck.

Paige lunged for my wrist.

"Give it back!"

"You moved," said the woman from 4B from the hallway, filming every second of it.

"She moved," said the man with the dog.

"I saw it," said the third neighbor, an old man in a bathrobe. "She broke the freeze."

Paige's hand dropped.

Her face went red from the throat up.

"That's not fair, you tricked me."

"It's your game," I said. "I only played it."

"Grant, say something," Paige snapped.

"Dee, you're embarrassing yourself in front of the whole floor," Grant said.

"The embarrassing part was the courthouse steps," I said. "I'm finished with that part."

The woman from 4B lowered her phone only far enough to nod at me.

I pinned the brooch to the inside of my jacket, over my heart, where my mother had once pinned it.

Then I picked up the suitcase and walked out past all three phones.

Grant caught me at the elevator.

He grabbed my elbow, not hard, but enough.

"Dee, stop. Where are you going to go?"

"Anywhere."

"You have no one. You told me yourself, you have nobody."

"I have myself," I said, "and I'm leaving this elevator without you."

"You're going to be back by Monday," he said. "Everyone comes back. Where will you sleep tonight? On a bench?"

The elevator doors slid open.

I pulled my elbow out of his hand and stepped in.

"Three," I said, and watched his face. "Two. One."

He actually flinched.

I would remember that flinch for a long time.

The doors closed on him.

I rode down alone, with my mother's brooch against my ribs and a suitcase between my feet.

In the lobby I opened my banking app to book a motel with the card Grant and I shared.

The screen showed me our joint savings account.

It had fourteen thousand two hundred dollars in it that morning.

Now the balance said zero.

The transfer was stamped 7:02 a.m., three hours before the courthouse.

He had emptied it before he ever stood on those steps.

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