“For two years, Casper, you played a character,” I said, without anger, without any heat at all.

“On Sunday morning you finally showed me the actor behind the mask.

Your only mistake was assuming I’d stay for the second act.”

I slid my arm through my father’s, and we walked out into the bright afternoon.

My marriage had lasted exactly fourteen hours.

My freedom, my self-respect, and my future would last the rest of my life.