In October, My Husband Left a Manila Envelope on Our Kitchen Table and Walked Out Into the Rain
It’s as simple as that.”
“You’re reading off an index card in your head,” I said.
“Look me in the eye and say it.”
“I signed the divorce papers,” he said, turning toward the narrow wooden staircase that led to his room.
“The terms are clean.
Take the house and let it go.”
“Who paid off the fourteen-thousand-dollar balance on my station wagon, Greg?”
“The auto loan is cleared,” he said, taking his first slow step up the wooden stairs without turning back.
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