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before, I’d been thinking about the fact that his presence gave boundary and definition to my life. But I looked at this stranger and just somehow couldn’t let him see the terror, so I said, “If you’re telling me that you’re not only leaving us but throwing away my children’s security, then yeah, I guess it’s at least partly about the money.”
    â€œWell,” he said, “there may need to be a lifestyle adjustment or two, but I’ve more or less given up my life this far to ensure no one’s going to starve.”
    â€œI didn’t realize that you considered yourself to have given up your life, Rick,” I said as calmly as I could. “Because here all this time I was under the impression that you headed out this door every morning to a job you loved, in an atmosphere you thrived in, and then came home every night to a family you adored and treasured.”
    â€œThat’s just the point, Cass,” he said. “I never even understood the depth of my own enslavement until this came along and saved me.”
    â€œGod, Rick”—my voice broke—“the boys.”
    â€œI’m just going away for a while to clear my head. Think of it like an extended business trip,” he said, in those soothing tones he probably used to explain that, yes, I know the investment looks risky but…“I’m not really leaving.”
    â€œLook, Rick.” I got up off my knees, finally, and sat down beside him. “If you’re unhappy, isn’t there some other solution?”
    He reached over and took my hand. I looked at his, with the sure, sturdy fingers and square nails, the gold wedding band that was starting to wear at the edges. We aren’t separate any more , I thought. We’ve been us for so long that we’re almost one . If he really was this new—crazy—person, I would have known it. The thought was so comforting, I continued it to its logical conclusion: It was just not possible to live with someone for so long and love them so thoroughly and have no idea they weren’t who you believed them to be, so there must be hope.
    â€œWe can try counseling.” There was warmth in his eyes now, and I felt a sharp flare of hope that the situation could be salvaged, that I could convince him by having sheer willpower to do it. “We’ll figure it out together. And, Rick, I’m sorry about the sarcasm. I never knew it bothered you. I can change.”
    â€œNo, Cass.” He shook his head, and the flare of hope died. “I know this sounds ridiculous—” His hair flopped over his forehead. Another time I might have reached up and smoothed it back. “—But it’s like I’ve found my, I don’t know, not my destiny exactly, but something like it.”
    That’s when I realized I was mistaken, that it wasn’t warmth in his eyes for me, for the idea of saving his family. It was devotion to this crazy idea. The Rick I knew didn’t talk about destinies. He talked about responsible investing and real estate, books, politics, theater and the symphony, laying in a case of 2000 Chateau Petrus.
    He shook his head. “I can’t tell you how free I feel, Cass. I’m not even bringing a cell phone!”
    â€œBut how will we be able to get hold of you?” I asked. Stupidly, I knew.
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll get hold of you.”
    Again, the room-tilt thing. My heart was churning away, pounding a sick rhythm. It had been a long time since I’d been the recipient of Don’t call me, I’ll call you , but I still knew it when I heard it. And this time it was from my own husband. “But where will you be?” I asked.
    â€œHere and there.” He managed to invest the words with a sense of airiness.
    â€œSurely this production is headquartered somewhere?”
    â€œDon’t worry, I’ll be in touch,” he said, less airily.
    I looked