“Dear Stephen,” I wrote. “I know you will be shocked, and I’m sorry I can’t help that. I hope you won’t be too hurt, and most of all I hope that you won’t take this as your fault. I am leaving and I won’t be back. There is no other man or anything like that; I just want to be on my own. I have bought a place for myself with the money from Grandmother’s trust fund. Please don’t try to find me; I want to be left alone. The children are next door, waiting for one of us to pick them up. It will have to be you. Dinner is in the refrigerator. Please try to explain to them that it’s not their fault, and that it has nothing to do with them or with you; no one could have been more understanding or more gentle. I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t. Abra.”

It was clumsy, I thought. But each sentence had been an effort, and I could not bear to try again; the note said all that there was to be said, and it was pathetically little. I folded it over, wrote Stephen’s name on the outside and propped it against the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table, facing the doorway. He would see it as soon as he came in.

I thought a moment of Fletcher, of taking him with me; but I couldn’t do that, it was not right to take a companion. I wondered if I would be lonely, if I should be afraid, but I couldn’t make myself feel fear, any more than sadness. I tied Fletcher in the back yard.

It was over. Everything was done. All that was left was to leave.

I looked around once more, turned away and walked out the side door. I locked it behind me, then took my house key and pushed it back under the door. Now I had just my car keys and the key to the padlock on the cabin. I opened the garage door, started the car and backed out the driveway into the street. I had to get out again to close the garage, then I went back to the car and looked once more.

Already the house seemed vacant. But still it was a safe place, familiar, and for the second time I felt a little like crying. I wanted, for a moment, to run back to it; the cabin was not real, but this house was, it was so close, and I opened the car door but I couldn’t move. It was over, it was only safety, not belonging.