sudden departure had shattered that belief.
For months, she had tried to remain neutral.
But now, for the first time, she seemed to be seeing the situation clearly.
“Mom,” she said softly, “I want you to know something.”
“What is it?”
“I visited you last month. You were laughing. Really laughing. I hadn’t heard you laugh like that in years.”
My throat tightened.
“I didn’t realize.”
“I think Dad forgot that you were a person outside of being his wife.”
That sentence stayed with me long after we hung up.
Perhaps Gary had forgotten.
Perhaps I had forgotten too.
For twenty-two years, I had organized my life around his needs. His work schedule. His golf weekends. His preferences. His moods.
I had become so accustomed to keeping the peace that I had mistaken silence for happiness.
But I was done living that way.
And Gary, apparently, was not done trying to get back into my life.
