Marci knew how to handle Phil’s temper and calmly stated, “Phil, hon, I’m not mad, I’m—”

But it was too late. The gasket had been blown. “I mean, Marce: I’m sorry!! I know I missed some things, but I gotta work! The company’s in trouble. The plant could close. And everything I’ve worked for might be gone.”

“I know, I know—”

“No, you don’t know. If it fails … what’ll we do?”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out—”

“What? What’ll we figure out?”

“I don’t know—”

“Yeah! That’s why I gotta be there so much. I gotta work to keep it goin’, and you can’t get mad at me for that, for wanting to be able to pay for our lives!”

“Phil! I’m not mad at you for that. I understand all that. What I don’t understand…” Marci’s throat closed up in the way throats do before tears fall. But she managed to keep the tears at bay and said, “What I don’t understand is … why I’m lonely. I got a husband and a coupla great kids. And I’m lonely.”

Living in Almost, Maine, had always been lonely for Marci. Because she was a city girl. From Presque Isle. So she was from away. And would always be from away.

And she was the girl who had nabbed Phil Pelkey, much to the dismay of the other girls in Almost who had hoped to nab Phil Pelkey.

And she and Phil had money. And a nice house. Unlike most people in Almost.

And she had had her kids later in life. So Marci was ten years older than the moms of her kids’ friends.

And she had gone to Bates College—one of those fancy, expensive colleges.

And she ran the Burby Foundation and wanted to help people in northern Maine. And many people in northern Maine didn’t like people who thought they needed help. Even though Almost had benefited tremendously from the work the foundation did. Marci had recently awarded grants to Gayle Pulcifer at the Rec Center so she could expand her programming, as well as to a bunch of dark-sky enthusiasts so they could build the observatory at Skyview Park.

So Marci had always felt like the outsider since she had moved to Almost. And that had made her feel lonely.

But the lonely she was feeling right now was a different kind of lonely. It was the kind of lonely that only people who have been married for a while can understand.

Phil had no idea what to say. He had had no idea that his wife was lonely.

“And, you know,” continued Marci, “I shouldn’t be lonely.” She shook her head, and a few tears fell out of her eyes.

It killed Phil to see Marci so sad.

But he didn’t know what to do to comfort her.

And it killed him that she was lonely.

But he couldn’t bring himself to make her less lonely.

“You just…” Marci took a second to pull herself together and went on. “You don’t pay attention anymore. And—I know you’re busy. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve made, but … you’re never here. With me. Anymore. You go away. Somewhere where you can’t pay attention, and you miss Jason’s first varsity basketball game. And you forget Missy’s birthday.”