Chapter 3
In the dark, my phone lit up with a message. It was from Theodore. I opened it.
It was a photo of Penelope heading into the shower. Her hair was messy, just like the bed behind her.
"Almost forgot that you're autistic. You probably can't understand what's going on, so I'll spell it out for you—I slept with your wife. Just so you know, she was the one asking for it. She really enjoys being in bed with me!"
I turned my phone off. My stomach churned, but I couldn't throw up. I was autistic, not a fool. Back when Penelope and I were together, our bed got messy too.
I ignored him. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
…
The next morning, I didn't get up until it was noon.
As usual, Penelope still wasn't home. Martha said she was busy with work at the company.
Yet, Theodore's Instagram said otherwise—he had just posted a photo of the two of them gazing at the sea. They were lying. All of them thought I was a fool.
During lunch, my phone rang. It was Wendy Hamilton.
I answered. Her bright, cheerful voice came through. "Sam, I'm back."
I was stunned for a moment, only to remember that I had promised to marry her.
"I don't want to marry you," I said.
There was a short pause, followed by a chuckle. "Fine. Even if we're not getting married, let's go see the doctor first. Sounds good?"
"No, I'm not going to the hospital," I stubbornly replied.
The doctors only made me relive things I didn't want to remember. They called it exposure therapy, and I hated every second of it.
"Then we won't. You're divorced now, right? How about moving in with me instead?"
I stayed silent. I didn't want to entertain her. She was being annoying right now—even more annoying than the doctors.
"No. I don't want to live with you. I hate—"
"I've set up a greenhouse at home for you," she interrupted. "I brought in lots of imported flowers. You've probably never seen them before. Are you sure you don't want to come?"
After I moved in with Penelope, she used her pollen allergy as an excuse to get rid of the flowers I had taken great care of. She also claimed that plants attracted bugs.
She said the flowers would keep blooming somewhere else and that I shouldn't trap them in pots. So, one by one, my plants were taken away from me.
Wendy said she had flowers. If that were the case, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
"Okay. I'll pack my things. Come pick me up," I said.
She chuckled on the other end. "Sure."
When the call ended, I went to pack my things. Martha was already gone.
All these years, the housekeepers here would leave once they completed their daily chores. The doctor had said it was best not to have strangers living in the house. That was why housekeepers like Martha were only part-timers.
I finished packing and sat on the couch, waiting for Wendy. Before long, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door, and she stood right there with a bright smile. "I'm here. Let's go home."
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