And see, that’s the thing with marriage—after years and years, you don’t have to explain what you’re talking about, you just know. You speak in code and there is an understanding, as if you are two parts of one whole and one thing could not be understood without the other.

My thoughts were as murky as muddy water, shifting, changing, clearing, and then darkening again.

The night was muggy, but a breeze blew in from the south almost as if the bay wind had followed me to Atlanta. We sipped our wine, listening to music. Friends stopped by and said hello. My heart slowed, and understanding flooded over me: I’d been in a rough place, but everyone can be, and surely we could overcome. What is anything worth if we give up on it just when it gets difficult? All my surety about telling him how I felt fled like a flock of egrets startled on the waterway.

When we returned home, Rusty turned on ESPN and I wandered back to the bedroom to read. Rusty entered the room. “Ellie, what can I do to help us go back to normal?”

“I don’t want it to go back to normal.”

We sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what you want to change.”

“Maybe we just figure that out as we go along. I just know I want it … better.”

“That’s a little vague. Name one thing you want better,” he said.

I closed my eyes. “I want you to speak kindly to me. Even when you’re mad—be kind. Your meanness has taken something out of me.”

He took my hands. “I’ve never, ever, meant to be unkind. Anything you want to change about you? Or is this only about me changing?”

I stared at him without an answer.

“Ellie, I love our life. I just do. This empty house was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“But can’t you see—that loving our life is not the same as loving me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He jumped up to pace the room like an animal looking for an escape. “Love isn’t a feeling, Ellie. It’s commitment to stay. It’s that. If love were a feeling, we’d all be in trouble. Feelings come and feelings go.”

“Then mine are gone.”

His face shifted into ten faces—moving, raging, calming …

I held my breath for as long as I could. “I’m sorry, Rusty. That was mean.”

“Something is wrong with you.”