“Lillie?” Brad said.
“We’re going to Europe,” I said again, more loudly this time. “We deserve it.”
“Are you even listening to me?” he said.
“Are you listening to me?” I snapped. “We’re not getting a divorce! Are you crazy?” Heads were starting to turn. I lowered my voice. “Look. I don’t think . . . You didn’t mean what you said, honey. I know it’s a strange time, and it’s natural to do some soul-searching, but we’re in this together. It’s going to be great! We’ve been talking about all the things we want to do.” I smiled. Yeah. Keep smiling, Lillie. “And we will do them.” That last line came out as a command.
He didn’t look at me. “I haven’t been happy in some time, and . . . well, as I just said, I’ve met someone.”
There was a buzzing sound in my ears. “No, you haven’t.”
“I have, and we’re in love.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself.” The words were supposed to come off as funny, as pals saying that to each other, knowing they were just goofing around. Instead, it came out as, well . . . a curse. The newlyweds glanced our way, concerned.
“I’m sorry this hurts you, but we’re in love,” Brad repeated.
“No, you’re not. Nope. You’re not in love. You love me, your wife of twenty years, I might add. Two decades, Brad.”
“Nineteen years. And I want a divorce,” he repeated in his soft therapist voice. “We’ve been growing apart, and this is a natural separating point. But we’ll always be Dylan’s parents.”
“Is this about your stupid book?” I regretted the words immediately.
He refolded his napkin with sharp movements. “No.”
“Brad,” I said. “I’m sorry. The book is wonderful. But . . . you don’t want a divorce. We have a great life! We have so much to look forward to.” I smiled firmly and took another bite of cake to prove it. See? Coconut cake! Our life is great!
“You haven’t been that great a wife, to be honest,” he said, and my jaw fell open, a chunk of white cake falling out and splotching onto the table.
I covered it with my napkin. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re so obsessed with work. And Dylan. And now you’re suddenly obsessed with Venice? There’s no room for me.”
“Are you serious?” My voice was rising. “I’m a great wife! We have a wonderful marriage, Brad!” Everyone was listening, and I didn’t blame them. Yes. Let them listen and weigh in on what a ridiculous idea this is.
He sighed, gently, kindly, the therapist seeing his patient acknowledge a hard truth. Was he acting? It felt like he was acting. “I just haven’t been feeling a lot of joy. And, Lillie, I want joy in my life.”
“I . . . What does that even mean? We have a healthy, wonderful son, we have a beautiful home, and all of our parents are alive and well. We’re healthy and still pretty young and we’re going to Europe. There’s your joy right there!”
“I just feel dead inside.”
“No, you don’t. This is idiotic.”
“Lillie?” said a voice, and there was Samantha, one of my clients, whose baby I had delivered last fall. “Hi! Sorry to interrupt, but I just had to say hello.”
“Sam!” I said, switching into nurse-midwife mode. “How are you? How’s Luca?”
“Oh, he’s beautiful,” she said, pulling out her phone.
I looked at the pictures of a fat-cheeked, drooling angel. She’d done an amazing job in labor, even though it was her first. No screaming, no drama, just totally in tune with her body and nature, humming through the pain, her husband murmuring gentle words of encouragement. Three pushes, if I recalled （which I always did）。 “He’s gorgeous. You were such a champ. Everything good otherwise?”
“Yes! We’re trying for another, so hopefully we’ll be seeing you again. You remember Paul?” She gestured to her smiling husband.
“Of course. Hi, Paul,” I said. “Enjoy your evening, and kiss that little sweetheart for me.”
“We will!” Samantha said, and they went to their table.
For a second, I wondered if I had imagined the conversation between Brad and me, like a weird hallucination. I smiled at him just in case.
“See?” he said. “A perfect example. We’re talking about our marriage, and you drop everything to fawn all over them. That’s how unimportant you’ve made me. I’ve been sidelined by your career, and I can’t put up with your constant invalidation.”