I remember every one.
Laura slowly placed the glass down.
Then reached for her phone.
Her hands were shaking.
“What are you doing?”
I asked.
“I need to call Megan.”
Her sister.
“Why?”
“I need somebody to talk to.”
“Answer me first.”
“Nathan.”
“Answer.”
“That’s hypothetical.”
“It’s the only question that matters.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You said the trip made you realize you wanted our marriage.”
“If that’s true, the answer is easy.”
Laura stood.
“I’m here.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I came home.”
“Because what happened there?”
She stared.
I felt the truth arriving before she admitted it.
“He didn’t want to start something.”
I said.
Laura began crying.
“You don’t know that.”
“Then tell me.”
“He asked you to leave me?”
“No.”
“He told you he wanted a relationship?”
She said nothing.
I continued.
“He slept with you.”
“Spent two weeks acting like your boyfriend.”
“And then when you asked what happened next, he told you he wasn’t ready.”
Laura covered her mouth.
That was confirmation.
I felt something cold move through my body.
“Oh my God.”
“Nathan.”
“He rejected you.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“What happened?”
“He said he needs time.”
I laughed.
Not loudly.
Just once.
“He benched you.”
“What?”
“He put you on hold.”
“Maybe later.”
“Maybe after his divorce.”
“And you came home because you weren’t going to sit around waiting.”
“No.”
“I came home because I realized I made a mistake.”
“After he said no.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then answer the question.”
Laura cried harder.
I stayed completely calm.
That is the part I remember most strangely.
I had imagined if my wife ever confessed to choosing another man, I would shout.
Throw something.
Say terrible things.
Instead, I felt emptied.
“If he had said.”
“Laura, leave Nathan.”
“Come be with me.”
“Would you have?”
She whispered:
“I don’t know.”
That was enough.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
“What does okay mean?”
“It means call Megan.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Nathan.”
“I need to get away from you.”
She followed me toward the garage.
“Please don’t make a decision tonight.”
“I’m not making anything.”
I grabbed my keys.
Murphy followed.
I almost took him.
Then realized I had no idea where I was going.
I left him.
Laura stood in the doorway.
“You’re twisting this.”
I turned.
“Tell me what I’m twisting.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
I drove for two hours.
No destination.
No music.
I drove highways I normally hated.
At one point I stopped at a twenty-four-hour pharmacy and sat in the parking lot for almost half an hour.
My phone rang six times.
Laura.
Then Megan.
Then Laura again.
I turned it off.
When I finally returned home around midnight, Megan’s car sat in the driveway.