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Chapter 3
Both families were moved by our love.
Beyond their blessings, there was nothing else they could do.
My parents, feeling indebted, unconditionally supported the Chandlers in their business, helping them firmly establish themselves in Phoenix in just a few years.
It also allowed Joseph to forget his initial
intentions.
Joseph could have divorced me, been honest
with me, or even moved on with someone else after our separation–I would have respected
that. But he shouldn’t have been content with
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what he had while coveting what was beyond
his reach.
Had he forgotten?
I was never one to be trifled with.
Listening to Joseph urgently defending his innocence, still as impatient as he was in his youth, I saw only my reflection in his dark eyes, as if only I could fit within them.
I smiled lightly.
“I just mentioned it casually. Why are you so flustered?”
I subtly pushed him aside and walked to the dining table, staring at the abundance of food with no appetite. “Or are you afraid I’ll discover
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something you’ve done that you’re ashamed of?”
On the table was a plate of roasted salmon.
Fresh parsley was sprinkled on top. I picked up a piece of parsley with my fork, as if inadvertently.
“Why is there parsley here?”
“I remember you don’t like parsley.”
Joseph is a picky eater.
Parsley, lamb, and offal–foods he dislikes could
form a small mountain.
So, in my self–sacrificing love, I automatically ignored my favorite steak and lamb chops, subconsciously choosing foods to cater to
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Joseph instead.
Friends laughed at me, saying that as I grew older, I became more love–struck, even going so far as to buy mouthwash to clean the smell of steak before coming home.
I shrugged it off, my eyes full of the sweetness of a girl’s selfless devotion to her beloved.
“Joseph doesn’t like it.‘
“I don’t want to upset him.”
Once upon a time,
Joseph would go to great lengths to please me. When I wanted a globally limited–edition handbag, he would fly thousands of miles, spending dozens of hours traveling back and
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forth just to bring it to me and see me smile.
I always believed that love was about mutual compromise and tolerance, about supporting each other through growth.
I treated Joseph well.
Naturally, he kept that in mind and
reciprocated, giving me twice as much in return. What I wanted was always the steady, enduring
connection.
So what was wrong with sacrificing some of my preferences for Joseph?
I just never imagined that, out of sight, Joseph -who used to be so particular about food- would now bow his head for someone else.
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In the end,
Love comes down to one’s conscience.
But he shouldn’t trample on my sincerity. I looked at the fresh green parsley leaves, then up at Joseph’s eyes, which easily found an excuse.
“Don’t you like it?”
He sat down and moved all the parsley leaves into my bowl. “Over the years, you’ve sacrificed
so much for me.”
“I don’t want to always make you accommodate
me.”
“These are just small things. If they make you happy, then I’m content.”
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His affection was still tender, but beneath the tenderness lay a sharp edge. I countered with a question, “Joseph.”
“Let’s adopt a child.”
“If we had a child in this house, wouldn’t it be livelier?” I smiled. “If we had a child, wouldn’t life be more hopeful?”
Joseph’s eyes flickered, and he quickly took my hand. “Are you missing the baby?”
“Let’s go see him tomorrow.”
We bought a plot for the baby. Even though it was just an unformed lump of flesh, I wanted to give him the best.
So, when we were set to visit the baby the next
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day, Joseph received a call from Melissa.
Melissa was crying, “My stomach suddenly hurts so much, I don’t know why. There’s blood everywhere. Am I going to lose the baby?”
“Honey,”
“Can you come see me? I’m really scared.”
Joseph left.
That child was Joseph’s hope, his vision for the future, not mine.
As I left the cemetery, a light rain fell over Phoenix. My friend Geneva called me, her anxious voice mingling with the rain. She said, “Oh my God, I saw Joseph supporting a woman into the maternity ward. What the hell! Do you
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want to come and check
