“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he says.

I don’t want to hear this. “Shh.”

“No.” Ken pushes me away from him, twists and turns to switch on the lamp. He sits up bed. “Listen, baby. I want us to get out of here.”

I sit too, blinking in the bright light. My heartbeat slows. “Get out of where?”

“This place. This house. This town. I want us to just … get out. Go someplace new. Get a fresh start.” Ken sounds eager. His eyes are bright. His grin stretches wide.

I try to choose my words carefully, but they feel like marbles in my mouth, rolling and tumbling, clattering against my teeth. “I don’t understand.”

“I want out.”

“Of …”

“This house,” Ken says. “This town.”

“What about this marriage? Is that what you’re really saying?” Those marbles plunk, one by one, from between numbed lips.

We stare at each other.

“I don’t want a divorce,” Ken says finally.

“I’m just … bored,” Ken says.

“I’m just … looking for something new,” Ken says.

“I’m just … trying to live my life,” Ken says.

Outside, dawn tickles the sky. I am grainy eyed. My stomach is upset. We sit next to each other, backs against the headboard, and every time he moves to brush against me, I shift so we no longer touch.

“Where do you even want to go?” I ask him.

“Anywhere,” Ken says. A pause. “Wisconsin.”

I close my eyes and press my fingertips to the lids. “What’s in Wisconsin you suddenly can’t live without?

“The only thing I can’t live without is my family.”

I twist to face him. “Is that us? Me and Eli?”

“Of course. Who else would it be? You know I have nobody else. Nothing else.”

I have never seen my husband cry. Watching him break down now, I feel too distant to immediately offer him comfort. In fact, the idea of soothing him revolts me. He buries his face first in his hands as he rocks with sobs, then against my neck as he clutches me. Reluctantly, I hold him while he weeps, but my own tears won’t come.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands, his face wet against me. His mouth works on my skin.

I’m repulsed, but I don’t push him away. I pull him closer, and I can’t be sure, any longer, if my answer is truth or a lie. “I love you.”

“Tell me everything will be all right.”

“Everything will be all right,” I finally soothe in a whisper, stroking his hair. My voice is calm. My lips pull back, baring my teeth.

“Tell me,” Ken says over and over, “I’m not a bad person. Tell me I’m not a bad person. Tell me, Jewelann, that I’m not a bad person.”

“You’re not a bad person.”

Again, as with my declaration of love, I don’t know if this is the truth. I say it, though, because it is what he wants to hear, and because I don’t know what else to say.