When I was in front of a classroom, I felt smart, in control. My own childhood fell away, and in the kids’ eyes, I saw the adult I wanted to be. Patient, knowledgeable, resourceful. My daughter loved me. My students liked me.

And my husband … I was never sure with Jason. He needed me. He respected my desire to get a job, though I knew he would’ve preferred it if I’d stayed home with Ree. He had encouraged me to return to school, even though that had been hard on the whole family. I had told him I needed something of my own, and he had immediately written a check to the online college of my choice.

He gave me space. He trusted my decisions. He showed me kindness.

He was a good man, I reminded myself yet again, as I often did on these nights when the shadows grew long and it felt once again like I was all alone.

So our marriage didn’t involve sex. No marriage was perfect, right? This was adulthood. Understanding that the rosy dreams you had as a kid really weren’t meant to come true. You made trade-offs. You sacrificed for your family.

You did what was right, even if it wasn’t perfect, and you were grateful for all the nights you went to sleep without smelling the cloying scent of dying roses.

Thinking of Jason reminded me that Ree and I needed to bake his birthday cake in the morning. Perhaps I should wrap the iPod now, while he was still out. Then my gaze fell upon the computer and I realized the flaw in our plan.

Jason used the computer every night. Meaning tonight, when he returned from work and booted it up, the first thing he was bound to notice was the brand-new iTunes icon in the middle of the menu bar.

So much for our surprise.

I sat down at the computer, trying to figure out my options. I could uninstall the program. We’d already downloaded our favorite songs onto the actual iPod, so temporarily deleting the iTunes software shouldn’t change anything. Or …

I had this vague memory that you could delete things on the desktop by moving them into the recycle bin. However, the item would remain tucked in the recycle bin until you gave the official command for the bin to empty. Given that, maybe I could drag the iTunes icon into the recycle bin, out of Jason’s sight, and just leave it tucked there. Voila.

Before I got ahead of myself, I decided to test out my theory on an old teaching document. I found the file name, highlighted it, and dragged it to the trash. Then, I double clicked on the recycle bin icon to see what had happened.

The bin opened, and sure enough, there sat my teaching doc As well as one other item, labeled Photo 1.

So I clicked on it.