“Evelyn,” he said through his teeth, glancing around at the watching faces, “control your son.”

And something in me that had been holding on for eleven years let go at last, cleanly and completely, and it did not feel like breaking.

It felt like being set down.

For a decade I had been the peacemaker in our marriage, the one who smoothed over his moods and made excuses for his absences and smiled for his colleagues and swallowed a thousand small slights in the name of keeping the peace.

I was done.