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“I’m less familiar with Chekhov’s thoughts on human coupling.” “Prepare to be enlightened. He said, ‘If you are afraid of loneliness, don’t marry.’”
When two people become three, they stop being fellow citizens and form their own nation, one that is largely impervious to foreigners.
“But whether or not he’s actually cheating isn’t the point, is it? Doubt’s a symptom, not the disease. Something’s broken between us.”
“Oh, Jim. You’re not actually unhappy, are you?” That was the thing: I wasn’t. On the whole, I was actually quite content. But we humans aren’t too good at stasis, are we? No—we like to throw a wrench into something the minute it starts running smoothly. We throw ourselves over the ledge reaching for the big, shiny object, when the smaller, duller version would do just fine.
I lay back on the bed, thinking about how, save for a few letters, the difference between love and loss was so slight it was almost impossible to perceive.
What a mess it was, to have and maintain a family.
“Life breaks everyone.” The sun was shining bright, and I squinted at him. “Is that Hemingway?” “No, it’s Hernandez,” he said, pushing his index finger into his chest. “You might be broken now, but you’ll put yourself back together.”
As I awoke to a hollow house each morning, I was again reminded that my fool’s math had left me at net zero. I was without my oldest friend. I was without Lou, whom I still loved, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I was without my child. And this was all my own doing.
Kafka said a book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. Start chopping. —P
Once you love someone all the way, you love them forever. That’s just how it goes.”
As much as we crave a concise, linear narrative, life happens as it will, often in a haphazard fashion that feels anything but finished. We must cobble together our most important moments and call them our story.
