“You’re two very passionate people,” her mother had told her in a rare moment of sincerity. This was back when she was first diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Putting name to it was scary, but at least it explained why her shoulders and wrists kept dislocating, and her increasing fatigue. “This isn’t going to be easy because neither of you like to back down. You’re gonna fight, you’re gonna cry. But that’s because you love each other. Love and anger, they’re all the same thing. The day you don’t fight is the day you worry.”

Kate recalled that conversation often.

Well, she and Andrew must really still love one another.

She dozed off, waking when she felt someone staring at her. Andrew was in the chair across from the bed, a magazine on his lap, his eyes locked on her.

She wanted to say she was sorry, but pulled back. How could she be sorry for doing something that made her feel more whole?

“You know what gets me?” he said, his voice much softer, all of the feverish anger bled from his tone.

She met his stare.

“All of that energy you expended today could have been used to do something good and fun.”

“Oh, like have sex with you? Is that why you got so mad? I could have been blowing you, but instead I cleaned the house?”

Andrew visibly sagged.

“First, you say having sex with me like it’s a horrible thing. Of course I want to have sex with you. You’re my wife.” Flipping the magazine aside, he took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “So yes, sex would be nice. Or we could go to the dock. Or have a barbecue and sit beside the fire pit. Watch the sunrise on the beach. Or a million other things that are a billion times better than scrubbing a toilet. And your excuse is always, ‘it’s not like it can get worse’. But it can. We’ve seen it get worse. You get this amnesia when you go manic like this. The problem is, my brain won’t let me forget.”

She didn’t know what to say. He was so calm, so resigned. Her husband looked like a beaten man.

Normally, after a big dustup, they would apologize and move on, neither wanting to dwell on the negative. They had enough of that to deal with.

Andrew rose from the chair. “What hurts me most is…you choose that stuff…over me.”

Kate felt the hot tears cascade down her cheeks.

“I’ll sleep in the bedroom tonight,” Andrew said.

He walked slump-shouldered out of the living room.

He’d even left her a cheese sandwich on a plate covered in plastic wrap on the end table.