That night, after the girls were asleep, Mark prepared to leave.
Emily stood near the door.
“You can stay for tea.”
He looked surprised.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
They sat at the kitchen table.
For a while they talked about ordinary things.
Then Emily asked, “Do you still miss her?”
Mark knew immediately who she meant.
“Madison?”
“Yes.”
He considered the question carefully.
“I miss parts of who I thought I was around her.”
Emily nodded.
“I understand that.”
“You do?”
“I miss parts of who I was before the pregnancy.”
Mark looked at her.
Emily continued.
“I miss being able to leave the house with one small purse.”
He laughed.
“I remember purses.”
“I miss sleeping until nine.”
“Legend says people used to do that.”
She smiled.
Then grew serious again.
“Missing an old version of yourself doesn’t mean you’re supposed to go backward.”
“No.”
Mark looked toward the hallway.
“I think that’s what I didn’t understand.”
Emily studied him.
“What do you want now?”
He answered slowly.
“I want to be a good father.”
“That’s one thing.”
“I want to become somebody you can trust.”
“That’s another.”
Mark nodded.
“And?”
He looked at her.
“If there ever comes a day when you want to try again, I want that.”
Emily was silent.
“But,” he added, “I don’t want you to do it because I waited long enough.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want good behavior to become another way of pressuring you.”
Emily’s eyes softened.
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said in twelve years.”
“I’m putting it on a plaque.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He smiled.
Then left when he said he would.
Their first marriage counseling session happened two weeks later.
Emily suggested it.
Mark almost asked if that meant she was coming home.
He stopped himself.
Instead he said, “I’d like that.”
The counselor, Dr. Miriam Hale, was a woman in her sixties with silver hair and an unnerving ability to remain silent until someone answered the question they were avoiding.
