“We’ll talk.” She nodded in dismissal, and I realized that as much as I wanted and needed to hear the story at that moment, I would have to wait. She took my face in her hands. “It is amazing to see you. I am so glad you’re here. You have always been—for me—a daughter.”

“Don’t make me cry,” I said, but laughed and kissed her sweet cheek. “Thank you so much for having me.”

Together, Sadie and I walked across the wet grass to the guest cottage. I stopped halfway, turned to her. “You know that list your mother just made? It’s the same as my marriage. But different.”

“How so?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the morning sun with her palm.

“That damn list. You know, everything that must be there was there—the solid families, the jobs, the health—a Norman Rockwell painting of the Appropriate Atlanta Family. The ‘must’ list was made, checked twice like Santa would do. Same friends, same Lutheran background, same college, similar upbringing, stable parents. It was all so ‘Appropriate.’ The checklist went on and I filled in every box.” I made check marks in the air as if the list were hanging in the wet atmosphere.

Sadie reached for my hand. “Oh, Ellie. What do you think is wrong, then?”

It was time, I knew, to put words to my fear. “I can’t peg it down. It’s just this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, like someone is twisting my stomach in an Indian burn move we used to do to each other’s arms as kids and then at the same time they’re grabbing my throat, clenching down. Rusty walks in the room and I want to walk out. He touches me and I pull away. It’s awful. I have no idea what’s happening to me. I feel … sick.”

Sadie stopped on the grass. “I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

“Seriously? I see you almost every day. I’ve watched you disappear into some kind of quiet cocoon. I’ve watched Rusty yell at you and seen you make excuses. I’ve watched you stay home when you should go out. You think I don’t notice?”

“I just haven’t found the words to talk about it, but I know something is wrong with me. I can fix this. If I can just get quiet and figure out what’s wrong with me, I can mend it.”

She stopped me and placed her hands on either side of my shoulders. “Nothing is wrong with you. Sometimes enough hurt is just enough hurt.”

I started walking again and then looked to Sadie. “I’ve never spoken those words out loud. They’ve been stuck inside me. Maybe now the sick feeling will go away.”