“Greta… I don’t want you beside me.”
A few pills slipped from my fingers and rolled across the floor.
“I don’t want you beside me.”
“What did you say?”
“I want a divorce, Greta.”
“We found out this morning that you’re dying, and you’re asking for a divorce?”
“I’m not asking.”
“Then look at me.”
Robert kept his eyes on the refrigerator.
“I want a divorce, Greta.”
“Look at me and say it, Robert!”
His jaw tightened, but he faced me.
“I don’t want you here.”
I searched his face.
“Is this fear talking?”
“No.”
“Then why are your hands shaking?”
“Is this fear talking?”
He shoved them into his pockets.
“I want to spend the time I have left with the person I love.”
My fingers closed around the pill.
“Who?”
“Claire.”
I laughed once.
“I want to spend the time I have left with the person I love.”
Not because it was funny, but because Claire had always seemed like an ordinary coworker.
“Your coworker?”
“She understands me, Greta. More than you.”
“I’ve known you since you owned one suit and thought canned soup counted as dinner.”
“Knowing my habits isn’t the same as knowing me.”
