On Halloween, My Husband Bet I'd Never Leave Him, So I Stopped Waiting novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Bet
On Halloween Sylvia hears her husband bet his childhood sweetheart a beach house that she will never leave him, and the next day he skips her exhibition for the house viewing; she crosses his name off the thank-you card, and her mother's call ends in silence.
"I'll bet you the beach house," Russell said, in the easy, friendly voice he used on his guests. "Even if I leave Sylvia alone again tomorrow, she won't ask for a divorce."
It was Halloween night, and I was standing in the hallway outside his study with a freshly ironed shirt over my arm.
Downstairs, forty of his friends were drinking in costumes, and I had spent the afternoon setting out the food for them.
I had come upstairs to remind him that my exhibition opened at two the next day.
Diana laughed on the other side of the door.
"Tomorrow is her big opening. She has worked on it for two years."
"So?" Russell sounded entertained. "She asks my permission to buy a coat. Where would she go?"
My hand stopped on the doorknob.
"Then make it interesting," Diana said. "Come and see the beach house with me tomorrow instead. I bet Sylvia asks for a divorce by the end of the week."
"She won't."
"And if you lose?"
"The house is yours."
Diana squealed.
My stomach turned over.
Russell was worth millions, and he checked every receipt I handed his assistant.
Last month I had needed new work shoes, and he had made me photograph the soles to prove the old ones were finished.
Now he was giving away a house on a laugh.
A chair scraped inside, and I walked fast to the corner of the hall and held the shirt against my chest.
They came out together, Diana on his arm in a black lace mask, a folded listing sheet from a real estate agent sticking out of her clutch.
He was smiling down at her, and I could not remember when he had last smiled at me.
Diana saw me and let go of his arm.
"Sylvia, the food is wonderful," she said, and squeezed my wrist. "You did all of this by yourself? Sit down for a minute, you look tired."
"Thank you," I said. "I'm fine."
I put the shirt in his closet and went down to refill the cheese board.
I did not confront him that night.
For seventeen years I had told myself that he took my forgiveness for granted, and now I knew he thought it was entertainment.
In the morning I was up before him.
His message from last week was still on my phone.
[Sunday at two. Front row, I promise.]
I read it twice before I went downstairs.
Russell was standing at the counter with his coffee.
"Two o'clock today," I said. "You remember."
"I remember."
His phone rang before I could say anything else, and the screen said Diana.
He listened, nodded and reached for his jacket.
"Something's come up. Diana needs me this afternoon."
I held on to the invitation in my hand.
"You know how much today matters to me."
"Not today, Sylvia." He frowned. "It's one afternoon, and you'll manage it fine without me."
"You promised."
"Things come up!" His voice rose. "Why do you always make it so hard?"
He had missed birthdays and anniversaries before, and I had always decided the next time would be different.
Now I knew he had been laughing at that.
"Go," I said.
His face eased.
"I knew you'd understand."
He left without kissing me.
At one thirty I walked into the gallery by myself.
I had spent two years on those pieces, taking extra design jobs at night to pay for the wood and the display stands.
The assistant gave me the printed card that would stand by the door.
[With love and thanks to my husband, Russell, who stood beside me every step of the way.]
I looked at it for a long moment.
Then I took a pen out of my bag and drew a line through his name.
"Could you print another one without that sentence, please?"
I folded the marked card into my bag, and I told myself that I was done waiting for him to walk through that door.
The exhibition opened at two.
People ran their hands along the chair backs and asked what the joints were made of, and I answered every question.
Calvin Penfield came at three and stayed twenty minutes.
He was the Kincaid family's lawyer, and he had known Russell's father.
He looked at the cabinet in the middle of the room for a long time, and he signed the guest book.
"My number hasn't changed, Sylvia," he said, as he said at every family dinner. "Any hour."
"Thank you, Calvin."
I had always thought he was only being polite.
At four I looked up at the door again, and then I made myself stop.
Russell never came.
After the last guest left I checked my phone.
There was one message from him.
[Eat without me tonight.]
Underneath it was Diana's newest post.
She stood on the terrace of an oceanfront house with Russell's arm around her, and he was holding up a set of keys.
[Some people always show up for me.]
I saved the picture.
He had left me alone at my own opening to win a bet.
I was gathering my folders when the phone rang in my hand.
Mom.
"Mom? What's wrong?"
I heard ragged breathing.
"Sylvia..." Her words came out thick and slurred. "I can't get up, honey."
"Mom, where are you? Stay where you are!"
"It won't move," she said. "My hand won't..."
Something heavy hit the floor on her end.
"Mom?"
Nothing.
"Mom, can you hear me? Answer me!"
The call stayed open, and I screamed her name into it until my throat hurt, and my mother did not answer.
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