“That’s Vivian’s voice you’re hearing in your head,” she said to me. “If you saw yourself the way everyone else does, you’d know what a catch you really are.”

I arrived at the house at half past six and hesitated at the door, wondering if I should knock. It was ridiculous, of course, and the fact I felt that way led to a growing sense of frustration, one that was directed more at myself than at Vivian. Why did I still care so much about what she thought?

Habit, I silently heard myself answer, and I knew that habits could take a long time to break.

I opened the door and stepped inside, but there was no sign of London or Vivian. I heard sounds coming from upstairs and I moved toward the steps when Vivian rounded into view, holding a glass of wine. She beckoned to me, and I followed her into the kitchen. Glancing around, I noticed pans and plates piled in the sink, and neither the stove nor the counters had been wiped. There was half a glass of milk and a placemat that still sat on the table, and I knew in that moment that she had no intention of cleaning the kitchen before she left.

I felt as though I no longer knew her, if I ever did.

“London’s upstairs in the bath,” she said without preamble. “I told her that I’d come and get her in a few minutes because we needed to talk to her. But I thought we should get on the same page first.”

“Didn’t we already cover this on Friday?”

“Yes, but I wanted to make sure you remembered.”

Her comment felt like an insult. “I remember.”

“Good,” she said. “I also think it’ll be easier for London if I take the lead.”

Because you don’t want her to know about Walter, right?

“This is your show,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said,” I said. “You’re making all the decisions. You’ve yet to ask what I might want.”

“Why are you in such a cranky mood?”

Was she serious? “Why didn’t you have London call me back last night?”

“Because she fell asleep. Not ten minutes after you called, she was sound asleep on the couch. What was I supposed to do? Wake her up? You see her every day. I don’t.”

“That was your choice. You’re the one who walked out.”

Her eyes narrowed and I thought I saw in them not simply anger but hatred. She kept her voice steady. “I was hoping we’d be able to behave like adults tonight, but it seems pretty clear that you have different plans.”

“You’re trying to blame all this on me?”

“I just want you to hold yourself together while we talk to our daughter. The other option is to make it as painful as possible for her. Which would you prefer?”

“I would prefer not to be doing this at all. I would prefer you and I had an honest discussion about salvaging our marriage.”

She turned away. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over. You should be receiving the settlement agreement this week.”

“Settlement agreement?”

“I had my attorney put it together. It’s pretty standard.”

By standard, I’m sure it stipulated that London was living with her in Atlanta, and I felt my insides twist. All at once, I didn’t want to do this; I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to lose my wife and daughter, I didn’t want to lose everything, but I was nothing but a bystander, watching my life unravel in ways that seemed entirely beyond my control. I was exhausted and when the nausea finally passed, my body felt as it might dissolve.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

London handled it better than I thought she would, but then again, it was clear to me London was so exhausted that her attention seemed to wander. Add in her runny nose, and I had the sense that what she really wanted was to go to sleep.

As I’d expected, Vivian omitted much of the truth and kept the conversation so short that I found myself wondering why she’d deemed it so critical in the first place. By the end, I suspected London had no idea that anything was actually changing between Vivian and me; she was as used to Vivian traveling as I was. The only time she became upset was when it came time for Vivian to leave. Both she and Vivian were in tears as they hugged goodbye in the driveway, and London’s sobs grew worse as Vivian finally pulled away.

I carried her inside, my shirt growing damp in spots from her tears. Her bedroom smelled like a farm; in addition to cleaning the kitchen, I would have to clean the hamster cage. I gave London some additional cold medicine, put her in bed. She scooted closer to me and I slipped my arm around her.

“I wish Mommy didn’t have to leave,” she said.

“I know it’s hard,” I said. “Did you have a good time this weekend?”

When she nodded, I went on. “What did you do?”

“We went shopping and watched movies. We also went to the petting zoo. They had these cute goats that fall over onto their sides when they get scared, but I didn’t scare them.”

“Did you go to the park? Or ride your bike?”

“No. I rode the carousel at the mall, though. I rode a unicorn.”

“That sounds fun.”

She nodded again. “Mommy said you have to remember to clean the hamster cage.”

“I know,” I said. “The cage is kind of smelly tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Mommy didn’t want to hold Mr. or Mrs. Sprinkles because they were smelly, too. I think they need a bath.”