Because downstairs I was dealing with an adversary, and adversaries are simple; you protect yourself, and you win.

But up there I was dealing with two children whose whole world was coming apart, and my job was not to win anything.

My job was to tell them enough truth that they would not feel lied to, and not so much that they would be crushed by weight that was never theirs to carry.

I have thought since that this is the real test of a parent in a collapsing marriage, and the one no lawyer prepares you for: the ability to hold your own grief and terror still, behind a calm face, so that your children can borrow your steadiness when they have none of their own.

I did not feel calm.

I felt as though the floor had opened under me.