and are different.”
Always the same words. Almost rehearsed.
***
My estranged husband said the same thing to our daughter, Chloe, when she called him, sobbing so hard.
“Dad, that isn’t a reason! That’s a bumper sticker!”
He’d said it to my sister, Diane. To our neighbors. To the pastor. To anyone who asked.
And nobody believed him.
Neither did I.
I kept turning it over in my mind, searching for the missing piece.
***
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Diane told me one afternoon, three weeks later, dropping her purse
