The sink was filled with crusty dishes and silverware when I got back from walking Barney. Cole had, as usual, poured a giant glass of Coke (no ice—seriously, how did I manage to pop a child out of my uterus who doesn’t like ice in his drinks?), took about three sips, and left the rest to flatten and die on the counter. I considered yelling and rounding him or Paul up to clean everything up, but the energy wasn’t there.

Paul was in bed watching TV in his boxers, sipping dark liquor on the rocks. He’d been drinking more than usual lately, I’d noticed. Work must have been rough these days. Tell me about it.

I curled up and put my head on his shoulder. When we’d first started dating, Paul was nervous around me, like he couldn’t believe his luck. After my asshole boyfriend Mark, I liked that. Paul was eager to please. He bought me flowers, then concert tickets, then diamonds. He let me pick where we went to dinner, where we took vacations—happy if I was happy. I’d thought it was nice. That he was trying not to be some controlling alpha male. But after all these years of marriage, I realized it was more that Paul just didn’t really care what we ate, saw, did. He left it for me to do everything. Like everyone else in my life.

He kissed me vaguely on the top of my head. “Georgeann called while you were out on your walk. Something about the swim team fundraising event.”

“Again? She keeps wanting to host it. It’s my last year. She’s not taking it away from me.”

I pushed closer to him.

“Maybe you should let someone else do it,” he said. “Give yourself a break.”

“What if I don’t want a break?” I whispered into his ear. “What if I want to play? Do you want to play?”

“Kendra,” he said, craning to see the TV. “Stop. I’m watching this.”

He was lucky to have me as a wife. Didn’t he know that? I sighed, slid out of bed, and rubbed my arms. “Do you have the window open again?”

“I like it,” he murmured. “Cold air is good for sleeping.”

“Well, I’m closing it if those goddamn foxes start screaming again,” I said.

I changed into my pajamas and brought my laptop into bed. There were fifty new emails since last I’d checked. Helen Boorman from work wanted a report on the marketing plan. Finance needed me to complete my time sheet. Laura Scott from high school was asking for Girl Scout cookie orders for her daughter. The dentist had sent a friendly reminder to schedule a six-month checkup.

And I had a new message request on Facebook.

Reluctantly, I logged into my account. I rarely received messages and usually just spent my time scrolling through friends’ photos.