Sometimes remorse needs company.
Sometimes it needs solitude.
My body recovered faster than my marriage.
At my eight-week follow-up, Dr. Miller examined me again.
Everything looked normal.
“Your abdomen is already considerably less distended,” she said.
I smiled.
“No measuring tape?”
She gave me a look.
“Absolutely not.”
I laughed.
Then she asked, “How are you?”
“Physically?”
“No.”
I thought about the question.
“I think I’m learning the difference between keeping a marriage and choosing one.”
Dr. Miller smiled.
“That sounds difficult.”
“It is.”
“Useful things often are.”
On my way home, I drove past our house.
Daniel was outside raking leaves.
He didn’t know I was there.
For several minutes, I watched him from the corner.
Not secretly in the way he had watched me.
I could have driven away.
Instead, I pulled into the driveway.
He looked surprised.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He leaned the rake against the garage.
“How was the appointment?”
