Free Sever by Lauren DeStefano

understand. His fingers close into his palm, and he lowers his hand from my side.
    “I can’t,” I say again, with more certainty.
    He steps closer to me, and my nerves bristle like the long grass outside. Everything is rustling with expectancy.
    “We never consummated our marriage,” he says softly. “At first I thought you only needed time. I was patient.” He presses his lips together for a moment, thinking. “But then it didn’t matter so much. I liked just being with you. I liked the way you breathed when you were asleep. I liked when you took the champagne glass from my hand. I liked how your fingers were always too long for your gloves.”
    A smile tugs at one side of my mouth, and I allow it.
    “Looking back, those feel like the most important parts. They were real, weren’t they?”
    “Yes,” I answer, and it’s the truth.
    He touches my left hand and looks at my eyes, asking permission. I nod, and he holds my palm flat against his and then holds my hand between us. His other hand traces the slope of my wedding ring and pinches either side of it between his thumb and index finger. When I realize what’s happening, my pulse quickens, my mouth goes dry.
    He slides the ring down my finger, and it hitches onmy knuckle, like part of me is still trying to hang on. My body lilts forward, tethered to the ring for only an instant more before letting go.
    This was it. This was why I kept wearing my wedding ring, why it never felt right to remove it myself. There was only one person who could set me free.
    “Let’s call this an official annulment,” he says.
    I can’t help it. I throw my arms around him and pull him tight against me. He tenses, startled, but then he puts his arms around me too. I can feel his closed fist where he holds the ring.
    “Thank you,” I whisper.

    Minutes later I’m lying on the divan, watching my ankle swing back and forth over the edge like a guillotine. Linden paces the length of the room, tracing the book spines.
    I look for the moon through the open window, but it’s hiding behind clouds.
    Linden says, “What’s your brother like?”
    I blink. It’s the first time he’s asked me about Rowan. Maybe he’s trying to get to know me, now that he knows I’ll give him the truth.
    “He’s smarter than me,” I say. “And practical.”
    “Is he older? Younger?”
    “About ninety seconds younger,” I say. “We’re twins.”
    “Twins?” he says.
    I hang my head over the arm of the divan, looking at him upside down. “You sound surprised.”
    “It’s just—twins,” he says, leaning against a row of paisley cloth-bound books. “That changes the entire way I look at you.” He keeps his mouth open, struggling for the right words.
    “Like I’m half of a whole?” I say, trying to help him.
    “I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says. “You’re a whole person by yourself.”
    I look out the window again. “You know what scares me?” I say. “I’m starting to feel like you’re right.”
    Linden is quiet for a long time. I hear his clothes rustling, the chair creaking under his weight. “I think I understand,” he says. “When I lost Rose, I kept going, I still do, but I’ll never be what I was when she was alive. It’ll always feel like something’s . . . not right, without her here.”
    “That’s sort of what it’s like,” I agree. Even though my brother and I are both still alive, the longer we’re apart, the more I feel myself changing. It’s like I’m evolving into something that doesn’t include him. I don’t think I can ever be the person I was before all this.
    It’s quiet again after that. It’s a comfortable quiet, though. Peaceful. I feel unburdened, and after a while I start to imagine that the divan is a boat moving over the ocean. Sunken cities play music beneath the waves. The ghosts are stirring.
    Someone turns on the light, and my thoughts scatter away as I blink at the brightness. This is one of the few rooms with