The silence was necessary — a sterile dressing over a deep wound.

That afternoon we sat at the kitchen island. The lists were gone. In their place, a notepad and a pen.

“I’m calling a lawyer Monday about the identity theft,” Robert said, voice raspy. “I have to freeze my credit. I have to report it.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“And I’m calling Dr. Evans. We need counseling. I need counseling. I let her abuse you, Laura. I was a coward.”

I didn’t offer a platitude. I didn’t tell him it was okay. It wasn’t. “You were. But you stood up today. That means something.”