Dolores cried.

Most of the row cried.

Giselle’s mother made a noise.

I sat there for the remaining twenty-six minutes of my marriage and I did not do one single thing.

Then there was the recessional and the sort of general collapse of order that follows, and I stood up and I told Dolores that I had a migraine coming and that I was going to get the car and would she mind riding back with her cousin.

She minded.