Later the Flowers Bloomed, Not Waiting for You

I stood in line for forty minutes to buy egg tarts, and after I just stepped away to wash my hands, all four fillings were gone when I came back. All that was left was a box of crumbly pastry shells. Charity handed a tissue to Herbert, my best friend, and explained offhandedly. "Herbert ate the tart fillings. I saved the shells for you." I looked at the wreckage. "Charity, I stood in line for forty minutes." She frowned at me. "They're just a few egg tarts. Is it really that big a deal?" My throat suddenly closed up, and I couldn't get a word out. It felt like this was how it went every single time these past three years. As long as Herbert was around, the best of everything always went to him first. When we ate breakfast sandwiches, she'd peel out the meat for Herbert and leave the plain bread for me. When the bubble tea was buy-one-get-one, the free cup went to Herbert too; if I wanted one, I had to pay for it myself. Whenever I got upset, Charity would hug me and smooth it over. "Herbert's your best friend. He's practically half your family." "If I keep him happy, isn't it so that when the two of us fight someday, he'll put in a good word for me?" Back then, I actually thought she had a point. Seeing that I still hadn't said anything, Herbert set down his spoon. "Spencer, don't be mad. How about I go buy you a few more right now?" Charity grabbed his arm at once, her tone full of distaste. "Buy what? He's always like this—everything has to be divided up down to the last detail." Watching the two of them play off each other like that, I suddenly found it all utterly pointless. I pushed back my chair, stood up, and walked straight out. Since I could never be the one who was favored, then I didn't want this affection that was somebody else's leftovers either. ...... The moment I stepped out of the restaurant, Charity chased after me. "Spencer Dickerson, that's enough." "Herbert just said the tart filling was good, so I handed it to him without thinking." Herbert trailed behind, holding my coat, looking a little at a loss. "I didn't know you wanted them. If you really mind, I just won't eat them next time." When I ignored her, Charity's frown deepened. "He's already said all that. What more do you want?" My steps faltered. The egg tarts were the ones I'd bought. Yet in the end, it was as if I'd forced some terrible wrong on Herbert. It wasn't that I was unwilling to give in to him. We'd known each other so many years, and I'd never once kept score with him. I just couldn't understand it. I was Charity's boyfriend. So why was it that every time there were two choices, I was always the one left over? We'd walked a little way when Charity suddenly called out. "Hold on." I stopped too. She stared at Herbert's feet for a couple of seconds, then frowned. "Why didn't you say your shoes had rubbed you raw?" Herbert looked down and only then noticed his heel was already red. "It's fine, it'll be okay in a bit." Charity turned and went to the convenience store next door to buy a box of bandages. When she came back, she crouched right down in front of Herbert. "I told you before to buy your shoes a size bigger. Now they've rubbed you raw, and it'll hurt for days." Herbert steadied himself on her shoulder and lifted his foot, letting out a laugh. "Got it, Nanny Charity." The two of them were still talking when I left. It wasn't until I was heading down the stairs to the subway that a sharp pain shot through my heel. I looked down and realized it had rubbed raw at some point without my noticing. I dug around in my bag for a long time but couldn't find a bandage. In the end, all I could do was pull out a tissue and tuck it against the back of my shoe. After a couple of steps, the tissue slipped out again. I bent down and stuffed it back in. Suddenly I felt a little tired. When I woke up the next day, Charity had sent me several messages. Don't work overtime tonight. I booked that restaurant you've been wanting to go to. That was when I remembered—today was our third anniversary. My phone buzzed again. Yesterday was my fault. I'll wait for you downstairs at your office tonight. Let's have a good talk. My finger hovered over the delete button for a moment. In the end, I still replied, "Okay." When work let out, Charity was already waiting downstairs. Just as I got close, the passenger window rolled down. Herbert waved at me with a smile. "Spencer." I stopped in my tracks. "He's coming too?" Charity made a small sound of agreement, her expression easy. "He was in a bad mood today, so I brought him along." Seeing that I didn't move, she frowned. "What's wrong?" "It's just one more person at dinner." "Weren't you always the one saying it's more fun with the three of us together?" For the rest of the meal, Charity and Herbert chatted away happily. From embarrassing stories back in college to the movie they'd seen together a few days ago. I sat across from them and couldn't get a single word in. My phone buzzed—it was a message from my mother. Spencer, that thing I mentioned last time, about coming back home to build your career—have you thought it over? I glanced at the two of them across the table, then looked down and replied. Mom, I'm coming back.

The next afternoon, I went to Charity's place to pick up my things. I'd left a lot of odds and ends there over the past three years, so it was a good time to clear it all out in one go. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard Herbert laughing. Charity was standing behind him, leaning down to knot his tie. "Why aren't you wearing the one I gave you?" Herbert touched the tie around his neck. "That one's too expensive. I'm afraid I'll lose it." Charity laughed. "I gave it to you so you'd wear it. If you lose it, I'll just buy you another one." Herbert was about to say something when he caught sight of me in the entryway out of the corner of his eye, and his voice stopped short. "Spencer?" "Don't get the wrong idea. Charity just picked up the necklace for me while she was on a business trip a few days ago." She hummed, her tone offhand. "He'd been going on about it for ages, and I happened to come across one." I frowned. "That business trip of yours—didn't you say you were too busy to even bring me back a gift?" Charity's expression froze for a second. I didn't ask about the necklace again, and turned to Herbert instead. "What are you doing here?" Herbert rubbed his nose. "My phone died, and I happened to be passing by, so I came up to charge it for a bit." I glanced at the phone on the coffee table. "Isn't your place just in the complex next door?" Before Herbert could speak, Charity jumped in first. "Don't give him a hard time. I'm the one who asked him over." "There's a company celebration dinner tonight, and I can bring someone. You don't like these kinds of events, so I asked Herbert to come with me." The two of them started working out the evening's plans between themselves. Standing there in the entryway, I suddenly remembered. When Charity and I first started dating, Herbert actually rarely got involved in anything between us. I was always afraid that once I was in a relationship, I'd neglect this friend I'd known for years. So I'd invite him along to meals, and buy an extra ticket when we went to the movies. At first, Charity wasn't happy about it. "Why do you always bring him along on our dates?" Back then I'd smile and throw an arm over Herbert's shoulder. "He's my best friend. What's the harm?" Later, Charity stopped complaining. Later still, even when I said nothing, she'd be the one to ask whether Herbert was coming. I don't know when it started. The spot was one I'd made for him with my own hands. And in the end, even I could barely find a place to stand. Thinking about it, I suddenly lost any desire to keep asking. "You two go ahead." Charity looked up at me, seeming a little surprised. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Charity's mother. "Spencer, remember to come back with Charity for dinner this weekend." "Her dad says it's time we talked about the two of you getting married."

The next day at work, I submitted my resignation. The job back home wasn't settled yet, but I still had to wrap up what was on my desk first. While I was sorting through my files, I remembered that an important document had been left in Charity's car. At noon, Charity had the receptionist bring me her car keys. During my lunch break, I went down to the underground parking garage. The document was pressed at the very bottom of the passenger-side storage compartment. When I pulled it out, a bank statement fell to my feet. I was about to just tuck it back in, but then I saw Herbert's name in the cardholder line. Below that were six straight months of spending records. The account being charged was Charity's, every single time. I stared at that statement for a long time, then called Charity right away. "Come down here." Ten minutes later, she appeared in the parking garage. I handed her the statement. "What's this?" When Charity saw the name on it, her expression shifted slightly. I clenched my fingers. "Why have you been paying all of Herbert's bills for the past six months?" Charity was silent for two seconds. "He forgot to make a payment a few times before, so I just went ahead and set up automatic payments for him." I froze. "So for the past six months, you've been the one paying for him?" "He pays me back." Her tone grew more and more impatient. "It's just a favor. Do you have to make it so complicated?" "Then why did you never tell me?" Charity glanced at me, as if the question made no sense at all. "What's there to tell? His income isn't steady, sometimes he's short on cash, so I cover it for him." I looked down at the statement. The most recent charge was over twenty thousand in luxury purchases. "You call that being short on cash?" Charity's face darkened at once. "Spencer, since when do you get to control even what Herbert spends his money on?" She pulled the statement out of my hand. "We're just dating." "When I use my own money, do I have to report every single transaction to you?" Just dating. Those words circled around in my head. So in Charity's eyes, three years amounted to nothing more than this. Right then my phone lit up with a message from HR, asking when I could finish my resignation paperwork. I looked down and replied with a date. When I looked up again, Charity was already far away. That weekend was Charity's mother's birthday, and I'd promised to go. When I arrived, Herbert was already sitting in the living room chatting with Virginia. After the meal, Virginia smiled and gathered everyone for a photo. I had just walked over when Charity handed me her phone. "Spencer, you take it. You take good pictures." Herbert was already standing beside her. Virginia held Herbert's arm with one hand and Charity's hand with the other, smiling happily. After the cake, Virginia brought up marriage again. "You two have been together three years now. It's time to settle down." I was about to speak when Charity cut in first. "Mom, don't push him about this." "Spencer's been working hard lately. Let's wait until he's thought it through before we talk about it." Virginia turned and smiled at Herbert. "Oh, right, Herbert, what color do you want for your room?" My chopsticks stopped dead in the air. "What room?"

Only then did Charity's mother sense that something was off, and she quickly handed me the floor plan from the coffee table. "This is your wedding home. Spencer said Herbert doesn't want to get married anyway, so we might as well leave a room for him." I looked down. The master bedroom had been circled again in red pen. Two words were written beside it. Herbert Simmons. Charity pulled me aside. "Perfect timing. There's something I've been meaning to tell you anyway." "Herbert's family home is getting a property buyout settlement soon, and the compensation is tied to marriage somehow." "He's not planning to get married anyway, so I was thinking I'd get legally married to him first, and then divorce once it's all done." My mind went blank for a few seconds. "What did you say?" Charity frowned. "What I mean is, since Herbert isn't planning to get married anyway, the three of us can live together." Charity handed me her phone. Probably afraid I wouldn't believe her, she had even saved the buyout policy in advance. Further down was the marriage registration appointment for the two of them. The date was set for next month. The premarital checkup, the required documents, everything needed to get the marriage certificate—it was all listed out, one item at a time. They had even worked out how they would live afterward. Herbert in the master bedroom, the two of us in the second bedroom. Meals together as usual; for the New Year they'd go back to the Simmons home together, and I'd go back to my own family. I read through it, line by line. Suddenly I remembered what Charity had said on our third anniversary. "It's livelier with three people together." So it had started back then. What she wanted was already no longer a future with just me and her. Seeing that I still hadn't said anything, Herbert's expression turned uneasy. "Spencer, if you don't agree, then forget it." Charity frowned right away. "Forget what?" She turned to look at me, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's just a marriage certificate. It's not like we're really getting married." "You and I still date each other—what difference does it make?" As if afraid I still wasn't getting it, Charity added another line. "Besides, Herbert isn't going to get married later, and he doesn't plan on having kids." "When we're old, won't our kids be able to take care of all three of us together?" Herbert paused for a second, then laughed and gave her a push. "Who said I want your kids to support me?" Charity laughed too. "So what? We're all family anyway." "Family..." "Then what am I?" Charity didn't even have to think. "You're my boyfriend, of course." I suddenly laughed. So the husband could be Herbert. The home could have a place for Herbert. They'd even divided up my future children's lives for me. The only thing left for me was that one word—boyfriend. I nodded. "Fine." "Then starting today, I'm not that either." Charity was stunned. I looked at her and said it word by word. "Charity, we're breaking up." I turned and walked away. Charity stood there, her face grim. Herbert said quietly: "Maybe we should just forget about the marriage certificate." "Forget what?" She tugged at her collar in irritation. "Spencer's just angry right now. He'll come around in a couple of days." …… The next day, she went to where I lived. A few sealed cardboard boxes were stacked at the door, and the landlord was changing the locks. "You're looking for Spencer Dickerson?" "He just gave up the lease—said he was going back to his hometown and would never come back." Charity's expression froze in an instant.