Separation Anxiety

by Laura Zigman

Why open myself up to the conversation that would certainly follow—the one that would surely include my role in the fact that our marriage is essentially over even if we can’t afford to live separately like normal people?

Like so many other times, before and after, I would let a moment pass without asking an important question. Better not to know than to get the wrong answer.

“But you don’t want friends. And you hate people.” He stares at me, mouth open, disbelieving. “They’re not people, Judy,” he says, seriously, reverently, ridiculously. “They’re puppets.”

dark chocolate maple bacon coconut almond quinoa Paleo Dream.”

Which is my own version of hypervigilance: I’m always waiting for Gary to panic, to make a scene, so I try to take up less space and air than he does.

It’s like I’ve been holding my breath since we met, unable to fully inhale or exhale; as if there isn’t enough room in the world for both of us.