My Husband Kept Sending Packages to Ex, So I Filed for Divorce novel · Chapter 16 of 24

Chapter 16: Xenia

Forty drivers waited for me to say something.

Mitch's grandfather leaned forward on his toes.

Norma had both hands pressed over her mouth.

I walked up to Mitch until I was close enough to smell the coffee on him.

"I'm not answering that in front of the whole dock," I said.

His face fell about a quarter inch.

"When, then?"

"Saturday. After the route."

"That's five days."

"You've waited four years, Wendt."

The whole dock groaned at once.

Somebody yelled, "Come on, Becca!"

Somebody else yelled, "I've got twenty bucks on yes!"

"Load your vans," I told them.

They loaded their vans.

I got to van 22 before Mitch did, for the first time in six years.

He stood by the door of van 31, which has a broken heater and smells like a wet dog, and shook his head at me.

"That's cold, Hoyle."

"It's a happier sky in here," I said, and shut the door.

It was the longest week of my life.

Mitch took van 22 every morning and left a sticky note on my shelf every afternoon.

Four days left, Hoyle.

Three days left.

On Saturday, Route 14 took me ten hours.

It should have taken eight.

At every door, somebody came out.

The man at stop nine waved before I could.

The lady at stop forty hugged me on her steps and gave me a whole loaf of zucchini bread.

At 1180 Larkspur Court there was nothing for 3B.

There'd be nothing for 3B for a long time.

I drove past it anyway and didn't slow down.

By six I was at the depot, logging out.

By seven I was on the highway to Xenia.

Mitch's grandfather built their house himself in 1962.

It's small and white with green shutters and a porch that goes all the way around, and there was a light on upstairs.

His grandfather's car was gone.

Mitch had told me once that Saturday was card club and card club ran till eleven, because the old men cheated so slowly.

I knocked twice, hard, the way I knock at every door.

Mitch opened it in a gray flannel shirt and jeans and wool socks.

His hair was still wet from the shower.

He looked at me like he'd been standing behind that door since six.

"Hoyle."

"You said it on the record," I said. "So I'm saying it on the record."

He held very still.

"I love you, Mitch."

His whole face broke open into a grin.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Good. I'm going to need you to come inside before I fall off this porch."

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