Chapter 2

Chester crouched by the bed, gripping my hand, his eyes red.

"I'll go easy on soccer from now on. I'll spend more time with you."

I gave him a smile.

"I believe you."

I thought Chester would finally stop seeing Catherine so often.

That we'd go back to the way we used to be, the two of us leaning on each other to get through the days.

And he did cut back, for two days.

By the third day, everything was back to normal.

He'd grab the ball and head to that same field.

Sweating it out with Catherine.

The second time I swallowed the pills was last month.

I didn't do it on purpose.

It's just that when the separation anxiety hit, the panic that rose up was more than I could bear.

As it happened, Chester came home not long after I'd taken them.

He pushed the door open, saw the empty pill bottle clutched in my hand, and froze.

Then he sighed.

"You're doing this again."

He pulled the bottle out of my hand and tossed it in the trash.

His face went dark as he looked at me.

"Pamela, you've already lost a leg. Now you think your life's too long too?"

"You won't be happy until you've worn me down to nothing, is that it?"

He flung those two lines at me in a fury, then dragged me off to the hospital to have my stomach pumped.

After that, the whole ordeal dragged on till dawn before he was finally worn out.

"I'm tired. You should get some rest too."

I didn't sleep at all that night.

I stared at his back and counted how many times he turned over.

Seven.

Not once did he turn to look at me.

That night he never turned over, so of course he never saw my tears fall.

Now I turned off that video of the field.

I opened our chat.

The last message was still the one I'd sent two hours ago.

"Chester, when are you coming home?"

No reply.

Hands shaking, I dialed his number.

"Hello?"

There was the sound of heavy breathing on the other end.

And Catherine's laugh, coming through the receiver.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"The field. Getting in extra practice."

Chester's voice was casual.

"What's up? If you're hungry, fix yourself something to eat."

"I'll be back late tonight."

On the other end, Catherine laughed on purpose, her laugh right up against the receiver.

"Who is it? Your girlfriend?"

He grunted a yes, then lowered his voice to me.

"I'm hanging up. Coach is calling."

Then the line turned into a busy dial tone.

I looked out at the pitch-black night outside the window.

Picturing how the two of them were sweating it out in some hotel room.

While he could still lie to my face without a flicker of shame, telling me he was out playing ball.

Anxious enough that my hands were trembling, I turned my wheelchair and struggled to reach the pills on the cabinet.

Just as I was about to pour half the bottle down my throat.

I stopped.

Chester's two lines kept echoing in my head.

"A cripple with one leg gone, thinking she can chain me for life by faking sick?"

"My leg's not broken. Why would I go rot away with her?"

I put every pill back.

Since he'd never wanted to "rot away" with me anyway.

Then this rotten life of mine.

Was something only I cared about now.

It was already two in the morning when Chester got home.

He felt around in the dark for the living room light.

Switched it on.

When he saw me sitting wide awake on the couch, Chester froze.

"You're still up this late?"

He came over to feel my forehead.

I dodged it lightly.

"You're back so late tonight."

Chester was quiet for a moment, then suddenly smiled and held out a gift box from behind his back.

"I'm late because I went to get a surprise ready for you."

"Your birthday's in three days."

"Go on, take a look. Do you like it?"

Chester handed me a birthday present. I opened it. Inside was a soccer ball.

I looked down at my amputated right leg.

"Chester, you're giving me a soccer ball. Is it just for me to look at?"

He froze for a second, then breezily took it back.

"Sorry, wrong one."

He swapped it for a big stuffed toy.

Looking at that Duffy bear, I sank into thought.

Ever since the crash took my leg.

My freedom had been cut off.

Every birthday he'd give me a stuffed toy.

He said that when he wasn't home, the toy could keep me company in his place.

But in the bedroom, an entire cabinet was already crammed with identical toys.

Even though I'd said it more than once.

"Chester, I already have two Duffy bears."

"If you're going to get me one, could you make it a StellaLou next time?"

Afraid he'd notice I was unhappy, I made my voice as sweet and playful as I could.

He said he understood.

But this time, what I got.

Was still a Duffy bear.

Now, watching me stay silent, Chester frowned.

"What, you don't like it?"

I lowered my head and smiled.

"I like it."

"You gave it to me yourself. How could I not like it?"

Only then did Chester let out a breath of relief.

"Good, as long as you like it."

He peeled off his jersey and tossed it by the entryway, then walked into the bathroom to shower.

And out of the corner of my eye I stared at that jersey, my gaze turning colder inch by inch.