The space around my bed was becoming a place where things had been dropped and forgotten as I tried to lie very, very still for days. I only got up to go to the bathroom. I quickly turned away from my reflection—matted hair, greasy skin. Washing my hair was out of the question: I couldn’t lift my arms over my head without screaming. I would groan while picking up my Brita, just half full of water. I could only move from one flat-cushioned surface to another, holding my arm out as I tried to sit down again. I felt my age acutely. I was going to stay alone forever at this rate, I thought. I would never be able to recover from anything. When I called Dr. Kassell to ask what to do, she suggested coming in to get muscle relaxers. I could not explain that I could not drive. I could not do anything at all.

In order to avoid any kind of self-reflection over the course of my deteriorating state, I retreated to fantasy. Mostly about what would have happened if I hadn’t left Bobby. For one thing, someone would be bringing me Aleve rather than my having to hobble to the bathroom for it. He would order takeout, too. It was pointless to think about these things. If I called him he would come here and help me, but I had made it a point never to let him into my house. I needed a boundary. Somewhere, anywhere.

So far, we had been good at not having sex with each other whenever we were alone together post-separation. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. We were stiff around each other, and he was careful not to touch me. I wanted him to touch me, just to see what would happen, if I would feel anything at all. But he never tried it. Instead, we liked to share memories and things we saw that reminded us of each other.

I saw Stephanie had a baby, I’d text him at a time of day that didn’t feel too desperate—mid-afternoon.

Yeah, she’s doing well, he’d say.

Stuff like that: life events.

My throbbing began to dull around the fifth day of being mostly bedridden. My lower back and shoulder had worked in shifts to level me, and now, as mysteriously as my pain had arrived, it disappeared again.