Claire crossed her arms.
“You’ve been different for years, Cole.”
“I know.”
“You’re quiet. You don’t go anywhere. You come home from work, eat dinner, watch television, and go to bed.”
“I know.”
“I feel like I’m married to a corpse.”
That one landed differently.
Not because it was cruel.
Because part of me knew exactly why I’d become quiet.
I had spent my twenties in places where being loud got people killed.
I’d learned to sleep lightly.
To watch doors.
To listen for footsteps.
To recognize the difference between fireworks and incoming fire.
I had learned that panic was contagious.
So I stopped showing it.
After I left the military, I tried to become somebody else.
I sold commercial HVAC systems.
I wore polo shirts.
I paid bills.
I fixed leaking faucets.
I took Claire to restaurants.
I became the safe, predictable man she said she wanted.
Apparently, safe and predictable had eventually become boring.
Claire looked at me.
“I want a divorce.”
I stared at her for several seconds.
Then I nodded.
“Okay.”
She blinked.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fight for me.”
I almost laughed.
“You just told me you love another man.”
