“Yes, you did.”
“I made the phone call in two days.”
“That is the same thing.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“The decision has been forming for a year.”
“You never said divorce.”
“No.”
“So how was I supposed to know?”
I almost laughed.
“I told you I was losing you.”
“That doesn’t mean divorce.”
“I told you I felt like a roommate.”
“People say things when they’re upset.”
“You told me maybe we weren’t right for each other.”
“I didn’t mean leave me and move to another continent.”
“I know.”
“Then how can you do this?”
“Because I think what you said was true.”
Petra stood.
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because I was frustrated.”
“So was I.”
“I was angry.”
“I know.”
“You’re punishing me.”
“No.”
“This is punishment.”
“I’m not asking you to change.”
“That makes it worse.”
She began pacing.
“You’re not even giving me a chance.”
“I’ve been giving you chances.”
“No, you’ve been storing complaints.”
That one landed.
Because it was partly true.
I had stored resentment.
Silence had not been noble.
“I should have been more direct sooner.”
Petra stopped.
“What?”
“I said I should have been more direct.”
She stared.
“I stayed quiet too long.”
“Then this is fixable.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Eli.”
“I’m taking responsibility for my part. That doesn’t erase yours.”
She began crying.
“I love you.”
The words hurt.
Not because I doubted them.
Because I believed them.
“I know.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I know you love me.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because love hasn’t been the problem.”
“What is?”
“Priority.”
She wiped her face angrily.
“You think Damon matters more to me than you?”
“I think protecting your friendship with Damon mattered more than protecting how safe I felt in our marriage.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s how I experienced it.”
“I never cheated on you.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
“I believe you.”
She looked stunned.
“Then what is this?”
“It’s not a trial.”
“What?”
“I’m not leaving because I proved an affair.”
“Then you’re leaving for nothing.”
I looked at her.
“That sentence is exactly the problem.”
She went quiet.
I continued.
“You think if there wasn’t sex, nothing serious happened.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just did.”
Petra sat down again.
Her face looked younger when she cried.
For six years I had instinctively wanted to comfort her every time I saw that expression.
That night I didn’t move.
Not because I wanted to hurt her.
Because I did not know how to comfort her without implying that my decision was temporary.
Finally she whispered, “You’re really going.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six weeks.”
“What happens to the house?”
“We can sell or you can buy out my equity.”
“You already discussed this.”