“You know,” Henry said thoughtfully, stroking his beard, “it took me a long time to leave her. I didn’t think I had a good enough reason. I thought we needed to be fighting all the time, throwing things, crying.”
“I’m pretty sure it does have to be that way if you want to get a divorce in my family. I need to have a good reason if I’m going to upset the country club register.”
“It is enough. Being unhappy is enough.”
“Is it? Happiness is so transitory. I could be happy today and unhappy tomorrow. And it’s affected by so many things out of your control—the weather, the traffic, other people’s behavior.”
Henry was shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not talking about good moods or bad moods. Sure, those blow over with the weather. But whether you are happy deep down, whether you wake up and have to summon up the energy just to get out of bed, or whether you feel like every day is an opportunity, that’s different. That doesn’t change because of a thunderstorm or someone cutting in front of you in line.”
“I guess,” I said, though I was strangely unwilling to concede the point. I had been sure for so long my unhappiness didn’t matter, had held it underwater for so long in an effort to drown it, that my entire life seemed like a waste of time if it actually did matter in the end.
“Well, let me ask you this. Why did you marry him?”
“My parents wanted me to.” And then I paused. “And I was afraid no one else would want me.”
Henry’s eyes went wide, but he said nothing.
“I was living alone. I had my own job. I supported myself. But I was kind of a metaphorical burden. It was hard for my mother to tell her friends I was almost thirty and still single when all their daughters were married already, and having children, most of them. My failure to follow the plan made her look like a failure as a mother, and that was uncomfortable for her.”
“You sound so forgiving.”
“It’s not her fault.” I shrugged. “She was raised with those expectations.”
Henry looked at me with those wide hazel eyes, serious and intense. “I think you’re too hung up on what everyone else thinks, and you haven’t given enough thought to what you think.”
“Let me ask you a question,” I said, bristling slightly. “Was it easy for you to leave your relationship? Did you wake up one day and decide it wasn’t for you? Just walk out?”
“Of course not. I agonized for—well, frankly, for years. In hindsight I know I waited too long. I knew long before I let myself know, if that makes any sense.”
“So why are you rushing me?” I asked. “And besides, just because it was right for you doesn’t mean it’s right for me. Maybe Phillip and I are meant to be together. Maybe I need to stop being so self-absorbed and worrying about my feelings and pull myself up by my bootstraps and recommit.”
“It’s possible,” Henry said. “Do you love him?” he asked.
I sighed, a long and slow exhalation into the night. “I don’t know,” I said. It seemed disloyal to say I didn’t. And how do you know if you love someone? Someone you’ve been with for that long? Phillip was just a fact of life.
“Did you ever?” he asked gently.