“No reason to apologize,” Anne says as Kris fumbles in her purse for a tissue. “Christmas is a really hard time for everyone. It’s bound to be extra difficult for you.”

I nod and mop my eyes and pray the men won’t walk in at this moment. The husbands are still good friends with Daniel, and I couldn’t bear it if they saw me standing in my own hallway sobbing in front of the coat closet. “I can’t believe I’m crying like this. I’m so embarrassed. Here it’s Christmas and it’s supposed to be happy and I wanted everything perfect—”

Nic gives me another hug. “It is perfect. You’re perfect.”

And it just makes it worse. I’m not perfect, but the fact that my friends love me anyway undoes me. I cry harder. My God. I honestly didn’t know it’d still be this hard. I didn’t know I’d feel so… so everything. It’s been a year since the divorce.

The tears are falling madly, and I turn from Nic to take another tissue from Kris, and yet I’m still losing it. They all have husbands to go home with tonight. I used to. I used to before I decided I wanted, needed, more. But I’m so afraid there is no more. I’m so afraid this is it and I’m screwed. I can’t see having a new husband, they’re far too much work. And yet living alone with kids and running between mommy mode and designer mode and trying to keep everything functioning, and the bills paid, and the homework done and the carpools run… I’m just shot.

I’m gone.

I’ve got this outside-me with the great hair and the Rembrandt-whitened teeth, the classy wardrobe, and all the facial creams a woman turning forty could want. But I don’t have me.

Where have I gone?

“You’re doing great, Jack.” Anne sees Philip in the door, motions frantically for him to go back into the other room before continuing. “You’re through the worst, Jackie, you really are. You’ve got the kids moved, settled in your new house. They’re happier than they were a year ago. You’re happier, too. You’re just tired. You need a break.”

But that’s the problem. There is no break. We may have joint custody, but the kids are with me the majority of the time, and the work is endless. William’s homework takes hours after school every day, and then there’s his sports and the carpools and the running them from here to there.