“And?”
“He kept asking why.”
“That’s fair once.”
“He asked for almost two hours.”
I went quiet.
Diane continued.
“He didn’t scream. He didn’t threaten me. He didn’t block the door. That’s why I feel stupid calling you.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“He just kept explaining my own feelings to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said I was scared because I’d been alone too long. Then he said I was punishing him for mistakes Robert made. Then he said I was afraid of being happy because grief had become comfortable.”
Her voice cracked.
“At one point, I told him I simply wanted to leave.”
“What did he say?”
“That wasn’t a real reason.”
There it was.
Not violence.
Not imprisonment.
Something quieter.
A person deciding that another adult’s “no” was merely the beginning of a negotiation.
“Diane.”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to stay there?”
