The Hard Version of Staying novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Window at the Anchor
Hanna sees her husband and her best friend in a diner booth, walks in and sends him out of her mother's house. His text: take your capsule.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, the whole lunch crowd at the diner on the harbor watched my husband fix my best friend's collar.
I was standing outside on the sidewalk with a paper bag from the pharmacy and rain running down my neck.
Through the window I could see the corner booth.
Declan sat on one side with his coat off and his sleeves pushed up.
Joelle sat beside him, not across from him.
She said something, and he laughed the way he laughs at my jokes, and he reached over and turned her collar flat where it had folded under.
He did it without looking.
It was the same easy tug he gave my collar every morning at the front door, right after he handed me my coffee and my vitamin.
Then she leaned into his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head.
Nobody in the diner looked surprised.
The waitress refilled their water and moved off without a word.
An old man at the counter turned his stool to face the window, and turned it back when he saw me.
I did not scream or drop anything.
I stood there and thought about the three tests in my coat pocket, and the prenatal vitamins in the bag.
I had taken them that morning, one after another, because I did not trust the first.
Two pink lines each time, after four years and four clinic rounds.
I was going to put one in his coat pocket, so he'd find it on his way to the car.
Joelle had been in my kitchen at six that morning, rolling out biscuit dough.
"You look like you're about to cry," she'd said, handing me a mug. "Good cry or bad cry?"
"I'll tell you later," I'd said.
She had squeezed my arm and told me that whatever it was, she was right there.
I pushed open the diner door.
The bell over it rang, and the room went quiet.
Declan saw me first.
He did not jump up or step away from her.
His face softened, and he smiled at me.
"Han," he said. "Hey. I was going to call you."
Joelle's hand was still resting on his arm.
She took it back slowly, and I watched her decide what her face would do.
"Hanna, it's not what it looks like," she said.
"Then tell me what it looks like," I said.
Neither of them answered.
I could hear the fryer behind the counter and rain on the roof.
Declan stood up and spread his hands.
"You've had a long day, and you're worked up. Sit down with us, and we'll talk about it. Joelle's been helping me plan something for you."
"For my birthday," I said. "In April."
"It takes time to plan," he said.
It was a good answer, and he said it fast.
I looked at his shirt. I had ironed it that week.
I looked at Joelle's collar, which he had just smoothed flat.
"How long?" I asked her.
Joelle's eyes filled, and she opened her mouth.
"Don't," Declan said to her, very gently, and she closed it.
That was how I knew.
He was telling her what to say, as he had told me what to take, what to eat and when to rest for four years.
I took off my wedding ring.
It was loose on me by then, because I had lost weight over the last round of treatments.
I set it down in the middle of his coffee cup, and it sank with a small sound.
"The Tern House is in my name," I said. "It was my mother's, and I rebuilt every room myself. Your bags will be on the porch by tonight."
"Hanna, you're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in years."
He lowered his voice so only the booth could hear.
"You're not well. You haven't been well since the last round. Please don't do this in front of people."
"You did this in front of people," I said. "I only walked in."
I turned to Joelle.
She had her hand over her mouth.
I thought about the clinic parking lot after the third round, her arms around me while I was sick on the pavement.
I thought about the two of us at twenty, sharing one room and one bag of laundry.
"You can keep the key to the cottage until Friday," I said. "After that, I want it back."
Then I walked out.
The bell rang behind me.
It was still raining, and I did not feel it.
I did not tell him about the tests, and I did not tell her.
So I stepped out of the Anchor Diner and kept walking, up the hill toward my mother's house, with the bag still in my hand.
Halfway up the street my phone buzzed.
It was Declan.
"Come home so we can talk. And take your capsule, Han. You get shaky when you're upset, and you haven't had it today."
I stopped in the middle of the road.
Every morning for four years he had set one white capsule and a glass of water on the kitchen counter before he left.
I had stopped noticing it years ago.
In October his refill from the Portland pharmacy had come ten days late, and I had bought drugstore ones to cover the gap.
He had been annoyed about that. Annoyed, and quiet, for a whole week.
I read the message again.
Then I put the phone in my pocket and went on up the hill to open the door of the only house I had ever been sure of.
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