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“You had just lost your mother.”

I looked down at my lap.

“If I hadn’t caught you, would you have told me?” he asked, then started cracking his knuckles too. It was a cacophony of pops and clicks.

“No.”

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.” He stood up and started walking away.

“Where are you going?” I asked, getting up to follow him.

“To pack.”

“Don’t let my one stupid mistake ruin a twenty-year marriage.”

“Mistake? You didn’taccidentallyfall into his arms. It’s been going on for months.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Actually, you didn’t. You’ve been too busy making excuses.”

I was breathing so hard I thought I might hyperventilate. He walked out of the room, and I went after him. “I am sorry.” I reached out to touch him.

“Don’t follow me and don’t touch me.”

“What do I tell Gia?” I asked, starting to cry.

“Tell her I’m at a conference. I’ll call her later.” He went upstairs and loudly opened and closed drawers.

The sobs that racked my body were sobs I’d been holding in for months. I didn’t want Jim to leave, but he also wasn’t the man I married. I wanted that man back, the one I never would’ve thought of cheating on. Jim walked out the front door carrying a suitcase and a backpack without saying a word. I watched out the window as he got in his car. I hoped he’d turn around and come back, but he didn’t. Snot ran down my face, and I grabbed a tissue. I was sure my face looked as if it had been through a washing machine.

What do you do when you just buried your mother and your husband walks out on you? I couldn’t make breakfast as if it were any other morning. I didn’t want to walk Theo because I wasn’t sure my legs could hold up my trembling body. I sat back down on the couch, staring into space, but all I could imagine was a judge decreeing my divorce final. Finally, I picked up the front page of the newspaper. I hoped someone else’s miseries would make mine not feel as bad. I still couldn’t concentrate on anything when Gia came downstairs an hour later.

“Hi.” I tried to keep my voice natural. She got a Pop-Tart out of the pantry, then opened the refrigerator and reached for a carton of orange juice.

“Where’s Dad? I need to talk to him,” she asked.

I pondered whether to talk to her about what was going on but thought it would only upset her right now. “He had to go to a conference,” I said.

“Right after Grandma’s funeral? What conference?” She couldn’t have known anything, yet she sounded suspicious. Or was I reading something into it?

“What do you need to talk to him about?”

“There’s just something I want to tell him.”

She looked at me. She was almost eighteen, so maybe she would understand that her dad and I needed some space. “I think we should talk,” I said.

“I know what you want to talk about, and I don’t want to.”

Had she heard Jim and me arguing? Or worse, had she also seen the pros and cons list? Whatever I said now could determine if she ever spoke to me again. I took a big breath. “Sometimes in a relationship there are things that happen …”

“I know, you don’t have to lecture me. Jason and I figured it out.”

I didn’t see that coming. I just dodged a bullet. “Figured what out?” I asked.

“It’s fine. We got back together.”

“I didn’t know you had split up?”