“I keep waiting for somebody to do something else to us. What are they waiting for?” I asked Jep one morning, as we ate our oatmeal. “But I guess, it makes sense, if you were going to really hurt somebody, would you do it while that person was on guard or when that person was confident that the worst was over?”

“May I ask what you’re talking about? And could you please talk about it in English?” Jep said. “You brought this up as if we were in the middle of a conversation, not as if one of the things on your mind suddenly came out of your mouth.”

“I’m sorry. I thought we were having a conversation. I was just having both sides of it.”

“They have medicine for that, Thea.”

“Come on! Did you even listen to my question? Do you think if someone wanted to hurt you, he would wait until you were all relaxed and thought that...”

“If I was this stalker, I’d just wait until the person died from the bleeding ulcer he got worrying about it.”

“Gee, thanks for taking this all seriously,” I said.

“I’ve got you for that.”

He finished his breakfast, tossed Molly the last bite of toast and disappeared up the stairs. But he came back down promptly with a garment bag in hand.

“Where are you going, Jep?” I asked. “Are we getting a divorce?”

“Gee. Hadn’t planned on it. I’m just going to Tulsa for the same meeting I go to every year. And I’ll be back tomorrow night. If you want a divorce, we’ll have to find a way to synchronize our calendars.”

He leaned over my chair and hugged me and kissed me on the back of my neck. He sat down, whistling under his breath, checking his phone, going through his departure ritual. I thought about how, for years, I looked forward to Jep’s short absences. When he was gone, and Stefan was up to his own devices, it was freeing to stay up late reading and eat roasted beets and panzanella salad, what Jep and Stefan called “girl food,” instead of having to baste slabs of steer. Now I wanted Jep near, more than when we were newlyweds. I didn’t want him away from me. It didn’t feel safe, for him or me, for him to...well, fly so much. And...what if my visions of Belinda persisted?

“Please don’t go this time, Jep,” I said.

“What’s wrong Theaitsa? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.” I kissed him.

“You don’t seem fine. You’re fretting yourself into the ground, honey.”

“You go, I’m really fine,” I said and hugged him briskly. “No, don’t go this time. I have a bad feeling.”