Chapter 10
For years, I had poured Daniel’s coffee automatically.
Even when he was upstairs.
Even after bad nights.
Even when I was angry.
I would pour mine, then his.
One spoonful of sugar.
Half-and-half.
A strange ache moved through me as I looked at the mug.
Then I put it back in the cabinet.
I poured one cup.
Mine.
Around eight, Emma came down.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
I poured hers.
We sat on the porch.
That became our new Sunday ritual.
Nothing intentional.
Nothing announced.
We simply started taking our coffee outside.
Sometimes Emma brought bagels.
Sometimes I made eggs.
Sometimes we barely spoke.
The porch faced a maple tree Daniel had planted when Emma was six.
That spring, the branches were filling with new leaves.
For years, Sunday mornings had revolved around whether Daniel was home.
Now Sunday mornings became peaceful.
That was the part I had not expected.
I had believed detaching from my marriage would feel empty.
Instead, it felt quiet.
And there is a difference between emptiness and quiet.
Emptiness hurts because something is missing.
Quiet can be what remains when noise finally stops.
Two Sundays later, Daniel came home around nine.
Emma and I were on the porch.
He came through the house, saw us through the front window, and opened the door.
“You two having a meeting?”
Emma smiled politely.
“Coffee.”
“There any left?”
“In the pot,” I said.
He waited.
Once, I would have stood.
Poured his cup.
Added sugar.
Half-and-half.
Carried it to him.
I stayed in my chair.
Daniel went inside.
A few minutes later, he came back holding his dark blue mug.
Black coffee.
He had apparently forgotten the half-and-half.
He took one sip and made a face.
Emma looked away.
Daniel caught her expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at me.
“Did we run out?”
“Of what?”
“Half-and-half.”
“There’s a new carton behind the orange juice.”
He stared toward the kitchen.
Then back at me.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
The question was so absurd that for a second I almost laughed.
“You didn’t ask.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That’s funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
He went inside, fixed his coffee, and returned.
He sat across from us.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel said, “Rachel’s leaving the company.”
Emma’s shoulders stiffened.
I looked at the maple tree.
“Okay.”
“She got another position.”
“Okay.”
Daniel stared at me.