Lying Next to Me

by Gregg Olsen

She pretends to struggle for words. I know it’s a pretense, because my wife never has a shortage of opinions about every subject you can imagine.

“I couldn’t do it for my dad,” she reminds me, underscoring the fact that she is the adult child of an alcoholic, which has framed much of her personal story. “I can’t do it for you, Connor. You’re going to need to take each and every step toward recovery on your own. I’ll be there, right behind you, but I cannot lead you through this.”

But learned personality traits aren’t often based on present reality but on a past from which there is no escape. Our marriage is quietly rocky. Silently in shambles. I love her without a scintilla of doubt. But Sophie? I don’t know how she really feels about me. If she loved me at all, she’d have never done what she did.

It’s funny how the most traumatic events that happen to you are always there behind a sometimes-impenetrable memory.