⸻
"You're here now," I said, "three days later, holding printed proof that I'm not actually in financial trouble. I don't think that's the same thing as coming back because you missed your husband."
⸻
"So what, you're just going to hold this against me forever?" she asked.
⸻
"I'm not holding anything against you," I said. "I'm telling you clearly what I understand now, that I probably should have understood considerably earlier in six years of marriage. You married the life my income provided. The moment that income looked uncertain, even for a single evening, you left without asking a single question."
⸻
"I love you," she said, though her voice had lost most of its earlier conviction.
⸻
"I believe you love the version of this marriage that never asks you to actually show up during a difficult moment," I said. "I don't think that's the same thing as loving me."
⸻
Delphine sat down slowly in the armchair across from me, working through, I imagine, the full weight of a marriage suddenly requiring more honesty than either of us had managed in six comfortable years.
