“I married you because of fifteen minutes. You realize? You were only
cool for fifteen minutes.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
Her anger at the man in the backseat was almost the same as her anger
toward her husband, whom she loved dearly, who bought her a Rodan
& Fields line corrector from a woman with whom they were acquainted,
and the woman was hot, and BRB was annoyed at how the interaction
might have gone. Her anger toward her husband had to do with other
things, too, mostly out of his control. The way, for example, she could
painlessly look at the wound of her past through the light of her hus-
band’s presence. His love of her. His penis, which wanted her.
Her phone rang, a bear emoji, to announce her husband. She could
tell from the ring that he was nervous. They should have been at the
market by now.
It was in the little things they didn’t do for the kid and for each other
that she saw where the capacity for love was. That was what broke her
heart in that moment. These things that were not regrets but prisms of
light. The clarity.
Her husband would be able to live his own life, finally. She consoled
herself with that. He could start a whole new family. He would be gorgeously marked by the loss of his first one. He would be the most beautiful man in the world.
Below them North Spectacle Lake came into view, glittering like a
tray of diamonds. She was not angry at men. They couldn’t do anything
deep inside. They could only do so much, go so far. For this reason, she’d
cried out in joy when she’d heard she was having a girl.
It was in the little things they didn’t do for the kid
and for each other that she saw where the capacity for
love was. That was what broke her heart in that mo-
ment. These things that were not regrets but prisms
of light. The clarity.