I had left a woman who loved me for a woman who was useful to me.

Now the useful woman was discovering I was no longer useful to her, and reacting exactly as I would have predicted.

The only person in either marriage who had ever loved anyone, it turned out, was sitting five rows up at Lincoln Center in an emerald dress, with two gold medals in a canvas bag, wanting nothing from me at all.

Chapter 6 — The Hallway of Mirrors