“All right.”
My sister Sarah lived in Oak Park with her husband, Ben, and their seven-year-old daughter, Sophie. Sophie was at school when I arrived. I loved my niece, but I didn’t want my marriage explained over juice boxes and multiplication homework. Sarah opened the door before I knocked.
“What happened?”
“Do you have coffee?”
“I have coffee, tea, wine, and emergency cookies.”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“I didn’t say we had to use all four.”
I started with the lock. Then the emails. Sarah listened without interrupting.
“Do you want to leave him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
Sarah nodded.
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Very.”
“Do you trust him?”
Leaves were beginning to change along the fence.
“I trusted the version of him I understood.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
Sarah waited.
“Not right now.”
“Then maybe that’s the work.”
