Singapore.
I could have been preparing to move.
Instead, I was waiting for my wife to come home from her ex-husband’s house.
February.
I tried another conversation.
It happened after Petra canceled brunch with my brother Theo, who had driven up from Portland for the weekend.
Her reason?
Damon’s landscaping company had a major presentation Monday and he wanted her opinion on visuals.
Theo said nothing.
During brunch, after Petra left, he stirred his coffee.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“That usually means yes.”
I sighed.
“What?”
“Are you okay with this?”
“With what?”
“You know what.”
I stared through the restaurant window.
“They’re friends.”
“I didn’t ask what they are.”
“What did you ask?”
“If you’re okay.”
I hated the question.
Because the answer came immediately.
“No.”
Theo waited.
“But I don’t know if that means she’s doing something wrong.”
“Those are different questions.”
I looked at him.
He shrugged.
“You can be uncomfortable with something without proving somebody committed a crime.”
That stayed with me.
I talked to Petra that evening.
Again.
“I need you to hear me without turning this into me accusing you.”
Her expression tightened immediately.
“I’m listening.”
“I am not okay with how much space Damon occupies in our marriage.”
“He isn’t in our marriage.”
“Yes, he is.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“If our plans change because he needs something, he’s in it.”
Petra looked hurt.
“That’s unfair.”
“You skipped Theo’s brunch.”
“I had work.”
“For Damon.”
“For his company.”
“Are you being paid?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not work.”
“That’s insulting.”
I rubbed my face.
“This is exactly what keeps happening.”
“What?”
“I say I’m hurt, and we end up debating whether I’m allowed to be hurt.”
“That’s because what you’re asking me to do is unreasonable.”
“What am I asking?”
“To stop seeing him.”
“I still haven’t said that.”
“But that’s what you want.”
“I want balance.”
“What does balance mean?”
“I don’t know. Less.”
Petra laughed once.
Not kindly.
“So I need a quota?”
“No.”
“How many hours am I allowed?”
“Stop.”
“No, really. Should I submit a schedule?”
“I’m trying to talk to you.”
“So am I.”
The conversation collapsed.
Later, Petra apologized for being sarcastic.
I apologized for sounding accusatory.
Damon remained exactly where he was.
March was the month I realized I was lonely.
Not alone.
Lonely.
There is a difference.
Petra slept next to me.
We ate dinner four or five nights a week.
We watched shows.
We discussed bills.
We went to the grocery store.
We kissed hello and goodbye.
From the outside, our marriage functioned.
But we had stopped bringing the parts of ourselves that could cause conflict.
I stopped telling her when I was disappointed.
She stopped asking.
We stayed inside safe subjects.
Work.
Food.