I’m not even sure what … but something that haunted Eric for a long time afterward. Because of this … our less than successful sex life and the difficulty we were having trying to conceive a child—it was not impossible, our doctor was quick to stress … (Imitates his voice.) It is not out of the realm of possibility, but, however … and I would listen and nod and hope and Eric would walk out of the room … so, it was not out of the realm of possibility but it was very unlikely and that was that and I was now getting older and so it seemed that this was going to pass us by, that part of a life together … we would not grow old together as parents … one of the few things Eric really wanted in life. One of the very few. And somehow … it came to feel as if this was my problem. That it was my fault … no matter what tests said … no matter what his sperm count was … no matter how often we would have passionate and empty debates about adoption—an idea that Eric just couldn’t stomach, the idea of us raising some other man’s child—so there it was. This void between us. (Beat.) And yet I loved him and still do and so many other parts of our life together were and continue to be full and rich and honestly perfect. Even with this dark patch that hovered over us … each night as we’d linger in the living room just a bit longer before going upstairs to bed … or each time we tried to make love or make a child … despite all that we made a good and handsome couple and I love him and I think he feels the same about me … (Beat.) God, I suppose you’d have to ask him if that’s true or not, but I think so. I really do think that’s the truth. (Beat.) That my husband loves me …

She stops for a moment, takes a sip from a glass nearby. Waits. Begins again: