: The Bre

A

mentary about deep-sea creatures still playing quietly on the television. I didn't move him

ked past ten, then eleven

d familiar. Seven years of watching her pull further away, seven years

gently disentangled myself from Ollie, lifting him with care. He stirred but didn't wake, h

ouring herself a glass of water. Her lipstick was slightly smudged, her hair mussed

he asked without

y voice neutral. "Fell asle

not looking at m

accusations I wouldn't voice. What was the point? We'd had this co

parents this weekend," I said finally. "

turn. "This weekend? Bu

s years, my attempts at celebrating had been

"I thought you might want som

lightly. "What's th

ight. "Just that you seem to be enjo

ew he was much more than that to her-the road not take

I agreed, the

orce than necessary. "I don't need yo

r said

you looking at

e wh

g me. Like I've don

ugh my hair. "I'm not judging

ng through a rough patch. Tired of hoping she might eventually see me, really see me, instead of the mist

his weekend, fine," she said dismissi

'll have more time with Davi

earching for words that might act

aught her off

eated, "with our life?

walls slamming into place. "W

. "Because I'm not sure you ha

ered across her face-regret? fear? But i

d, brushing past me.

e stairs. After a moment, I pulled out my phone and texted my mothe

quickly: *Of cours

g had been truly "ok" in our household for years, bu

hink*, I texted back. *Wil

le clutched to his chest, his dark hair-so like mine-falling across his forehead. The sight of him never failed to catch my breath, t

ding to be asleep. I changed in the bathroom and slipped under the cov

d what it might mean for our fragile family. Perhaps it was the cata

that patience and devotion might eventually overcome her regret. Seven years of raising our son lar

never spoken aloud: our marriage had been broken from the start, c

ess. The possibility of ending this purgatory, of giving Ollie a chance at a li

inking, if she too was contemplating the inevitable end of our charade of a marriage. If David's re

re awake," I

ment. Then, without turning, she

on without reservation. I wanted her to see me as more than a placeholder in her

as unattainable as Audrey's idea

r," I said finally. "About what we rea

arkness, her silhouette barely visi

tted. "But pretending isn'

ight not respond. Then, her voice small in t

rained coexistence, I'd never threatened to leav

need to talk about where we go from her

bed. "We can talk when you get back from your parent

ry weekend-would be her opportunity to explore a future with David without the constraint

me I started considering a future of my own choosing as well-one whe