By year six I was doing the books for three small businesses in the evenings and calling it a hobby, because that is what he called it.

By year seven I could not remember the last conversation we’d had that wasn’t logistics.

Who’s getting Sam.

Did you pay the water.

Your mother called.

By year eight I had a mental category for it: this is just what marriage is at this stage. I had friends who said the same thing over coffee.

It’s the kids.

It’ll come back.