He shrugged.
“Because leaving a six-year marriage over weekends sounds extreme if you compress it into one sentence.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t weekends.”
I sat on the floor beside a box.
“It was me saying, ‘This is hurting us,’ and her saying, ‘Your reaction is the issue.’ Over and over.”
Todd nodded.
“So emotional affair?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t know?”
“I stopped needing a label.”
He sat across from me.
“What do you need?”
“To not spend the next thirty years wondering whether my needs are reasonable enough to qualify for discussion.”
Todd looked around the half-empty room.
“You regret taking Singapore?”
“Not yet.”
“Marriage?”
I thought carefully.
“I regret that it became this.”
“Different answer.”
“Yeah.”
Todd handed me another roll of tape.
“That’s probably healthier.”
Petra’s sister Vera contacted me about two weeks before my flight.
Vera lived in Bellevue.
She was four years older than Petra and had the blunt personality of someone who considered subtlety inefficient.
“Can we get coffee?”
“Is Petra asking?”
“No.”
“Does she know?”
“Yes.”
I agreed.
We met near Bellevue Downtown Park.
Vera arrived five minutes early.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
We ordered coffee.
Vera wrapped both hands around her cup.
“She’s devastated.”
“I know.”
“She thinks you stopped loving her months ago.”
“I didn’t.”
“What happened then?”
“I stopped believing love was enough.”
Vera stared.
“She says she had no idea you were this unhappy.”
“That’s convenient.”
Vera’s expression sharpened.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“I’m not here to defend her.”
“Okay.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
I nodded.
“I told her.”
“How clearly?”
“November. February. March.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we were losing weekends. That I felt like I was losing her. That Damon occupied too much space. That I felt like a roommate.”
Vera looked down.
“She told me you were jealous.”
“Exactly.”
“She said you didn’t trust her.”
“I told her repeatedly that I wasn’t accusing her of cheating.”
“So what did you want?”
“Her to care that something hurt me before she decided whether my hurt was justified.”
Vera stopped stirring her coffee.
That sentence seemed to land.
After a moment, she said, “She told Damon everything.”
I felt something cold.
“Everything what?”
“About you two.”
“Arguments?”
“I think so.”
I looked toward the park.
“Did you know that?”
“No.”
“I figured.”
I swallowed.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he give her advice about me?”
“Eli.”
“Did he?”
Vera sighed.
“Yes.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Of course it did.
My marriage had become a topic between my wife and her ex-husband.
The person whose presence I was struggling with had been helping Petra interpret my struggle.
I laughed quietly.