She wept in the shower some mornings and shuffled through the Trader Joe’s checkout line like a refugee purchasing organic mini peanut butter cups and she had no idea who she was, ever, not for a single minute of a single day, but Mark was right that it was too late to change her mind. That she’d signed up for this whether she wanted it or not, signed up for Ben, who of course she wanted, the tiny person who relied on her. And she had been reliable; until today, she had been.
