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“We came up the same way, Jess. Those are the things in life you can count on. The only difference? You had the view of Lake Como, which made you just a little better off than my tribe over on Ocean Avenue.” He smiles.

“Yeah, but you had an in-ground pool,” I remind him.

“Would the swimming pool have kept us together?”

“It wasn’t our pool; it belonged to your parents.”

“You know the Bilancias. Someday, all of it would have been yours. But you never acted like you wanted anything,” he says, “or that you needed anything.”

“When you don’t ask for what you want, you deserve whatever you get,” I tell him.

“What are you going to do about Cap Marble and Stone?”

“Well, I have a mountain to climb there.”

“You could get a job with any of the big commercial installation groups.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll work out no matter what you decide,” Bobby assures me. “I’ll always be here.”

“Even though you don’t answer my texts?”

“I just didn’t know what to say.” Bobby puts his hands in his pockets and walks ahead of me on the path.

When I left Bobby, I assumed he would always be a part of my life. Lake Como is a small town, and we were bound to run into each other. I hoped we could get to a place where we could be friendly because we have a history. But the vow that matters the most is the one we make when we decide it’s over, because it’s the one that sticks. The vow of goodbye doesn’t involve a priest, lawyers, and in-laws, just two people who have to figure out a way forward without each other. It is the hardest work of all.

Darkness falls around us. The surface of the lake is a mottled green and brown, like an antique mirror. “We should head back,” I tell him.

He turns to me. “We good?”

I embrace him and hold him close. He kisses me on the cheek. He takes my hand and leads me back to the house. We don’t say anything, and we walk slowly. Bobby gets into his car, and I wave goodbye to him from the porch. I remember a time when I didn’t want our walks to end, and when they did, I lived in a state of suspended joy until he returned to the house to pick me up for another one.

I sit down on the porch steps and watch his car take the turn back to Bilancia Land on Ocean Avenue. I go into my notes app. The walk with Bobby brings me back to the day I left him. I write.

I took onelast look around our apartment on March 18, 2023. I’d tried to make it a home for Bobby and me. Bobby’s bicycle and surfboard never found their way to the storage unit in the basement, despite my nagging, so whenever we entered, we dodged his claptrap in the small entryway. Once in the living room, inside the black and silver palette, there was modern, low furniture. Our wedding gifts were unpacked but remained unused, stuffed into the large mirrored armoire. Bobby’s schedule at the shop, and mine at Cap Marble, prevented us from taking the time to put our gifts in places where we could use them. After a while, I decided to keep them in boxes, to make an eventual move to a house an easier transition.

A black-and-white photograph of Bobby and me in a floating frame from our wedding day hung over the sofa. I looked pretty in my Calvin Klein sheath, a knock-off, of course, made by Betty Cline in Parsippany. My upsweep was dotted with small silver stars on bobby pins, which matched the ones in my eyes whenever I looked at Bobby.

My suitcase was packed and by the door. Bobby left for work before the sun rose, kissed me on the cheek, as he always had. I pretended to be asleep, but I hadn’t slept all night because this was the morning I chose to leave him for good. I chose a date that would work across the family, both our families. His mother’s birthday was a few weeks away, and my dad’s had just passed. I couldn’t leave on just any day; it had to be a day free of any family anniversary or celebration. I got up, had a cup of coffee, and called Uncle Louie to take a sick day.

As I was about to go, I heard a key in the lock. Panic roiled through me. I couldn’t imagine why Bobby would come home from work in the middle of the morning.

My mother-in-law was surprised to see me. My house keys jingled on her wrist on a plastic coil like charms. She carried the keys to all of her kids’ homes. Babe was like a super without the plumbing skills.

“Dropping off a few goodies. You don’t even see me. In and out! I hear nothing! I see nothing!” Babe walked through the living room to the kitchen, ignoring me. She carried a stack of portable food containers. “The platters are labeled. The homemades? They’re fresh. Eat no later than Thursday. There’s a port wine cheddar cheese ball. Bobby said he invited the boys over to watch basketball this weekend, but that will keep. The crackers are in the bag. And the struffoli. I wasn’t going to get out the fryer, but then I said to myself, I only have one son and one daughter-in-law, so suck it up and do the work, Babe. My daughters have their own fryers.”

Babe continued to talk as she passed me in the living room on her way out the door. She stopped talking when she saw my suitcase. She looked at me in my coat, buttoned to the collar. I wore a scarf because it was still winter and chilly outside. She saw the car keys in my hand.

She cocked her head. “An overnight trip?”

“Yes,” I answered in a tone that said no further inquisition was welcome.

“Oh.” She looked hurt, as though there was news and no one had told her. “Well, that’s nice. Where are you going?”

“To my mother’s.”

Her smile fell away. “I thought Bobby and you had worked things out. He told me you were doing well.”