My heart broke for my husband, sitting in that chair wanting to tell me an enormous secret but believing that to do so would betray his own son. I wanted Robert to forgive his child, whose only offense, as far as he knew, had been self-preservation. Yes, I could have filled in the details Jonah omitted, but doing so would have disrupted the fragile balance of our truths, and so I swallowed the scraps and tried to move on.

The irony is, for as hard as Robert and Jonah work to protect how they’re seen by the other, they actually would understand each other perfectly—better than anyone in the world, really—if they showed themselves fully. Jonah learned his coping skills from his father, after all. He inherited Robert’s wiring. It’s in their blood, their mannerisms, their ways of moving through the world, their pride—which is also their shame—and their defense mechanisms: image and privacy. What they present, what they hold back. What they believe people need to believe, when in fact, no one does except for them. They’re cut from the same cloth, and they don’t even know it.

But it’s not my cloth, not my wiring. All I can do is try to get on with my life, with our lives, even if I can’t stop reliving that day in my head. Again and again.

I’ve been reliving so many things.

Do you remember Belize? When our guide’s lantern died halfway down the cave? How dark it was? And how the water was just deep enough that if I’d lain down and filled my lungs with air, I could have floated all the way into the belly of that mountain? It felt like the world had swallowed us whole. I tried to touch the person in front of me to get my bearings, but when I reached out, no one was there. I panicked but couldn’t tell you so. It was like my body and voice had disappeared. Then you put your hands on my shoulders from behind and said, I’m with you I’m here. The darkness only lasted a few seconds, I bet. Someone turned on a headlamp and everyone laughed. But I remember feeling as though you’d read my mind, and I could feel myself again, even in the abyss.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot. About how, if you were the one in a body, in a crisis, and I was your neglected spirit guide, I’d do my best to steer you through the abyss, too, whispering in your ear, I’m here.