“I was angry at every woman with a husband,” she told me once. “Because of Kristen. And I was angry at myself. But I was never really angry at Mark. Not the way I should have been.” She shook her head. “My therapist says I made it a competition between women. Because that was easier than admitting that the man I loved just… didn’t love me back enough.”
She took down every low-cut top from her closet and donated them to a women’s shelter. She said she felt like she’d been wearing a costume.
She put her wedding album on the bookshelf in her living room. Not on display. On a low shelf, with the spine facing out. She said she’s not ready to look at it often. But she wants to know it’s there.
She took out the barbecue photo. Us & the Carlsons. She told me she burned it in her grill one night. She said it felt good.
