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cold, hard squeezing in her chest, her throat. She sensed something different about her mother—it was subtle, but perhaps her eyes gleamed brighter; her hands moved nervously, clenching and unclenching. It was so unlike her practical, plan-ahead mother to book a lengthy cruise, a dream vacation, or to plan anything at the spur of the moment. Dorrie never used to spend money on frivolities. It was the sort of thing people did when they won the lottery . . . or learned they only had six months to live. “Mom?” Sandra’s voice broke as she sank down beside her. “Mom, are you sick?”
    Dorrie shook her head with a hint of impatience. Dropping her cigarette butt in the sand, she buried it with her heel. “Don’t be silly. I’m healthy as a moose. If I look a little peaked lately, it’s probably from everything that’s been going on.”
    The past year had been hard on her parents, Sandra reflected guiltily. “Then the cruise sounds like the perfect escape. But Dad probably needs to get away just as badly as you do.” She forced bright enthusiasm into her tone. “Would you like me to talk to him?”
    Dorrie braced the heels of her hands on the log, leaned back and stared straight out to sea. “I ‘m going alone, dear. You see, I’ve left your father. I’ve been staying at Aunt Wanda’s in Woonsocket the past couple of weeks.”
    A dull buzz of shock hummed in Sandra’s head. “I don’t understand.”
    “We’re getting a divorce.”
    Sandra shook her head as though she had water in her ears.
Divorce.
The word sounded odd, foreign, something she didn’t recognize, the name of an exotic food she would never dare to taste. It was just too bizarre. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Divorce was not something that happened in her family, or in Victor’s, either. But most especially, it didn’t happen to her own parents, who had been married thirty-six years.
    Agitated, she got to her feet. “Mom, no— “
    “This decision was a long time coming.” Her mother’s voice was dispassionate as she went on. “I won’t pretend it was easy, but it’s the only solution I can see. Your father and I want you to know that we both love you— “
    “Oh, come on, Mom.” Stooping, Sandra picked up a rock and flung it as far as she could, not looking to see where it landed, not caring. “That sounds so . . .
rehearsed.
It’s the sort of thing people say to seven-year-olds. Couples who are getting divorced like to pretend it doesn’t affect their kids. But you know what? Even a seven-year-old knows the truth. It still hurts. It always hurts.”
    “Life hurts,” Dorrie said. “So far, no one’s found a cure for that. We all have to deal with it in our own way.”
    “The way you are? By running out on Dad?”
    “Just because I’m the one leaving doesn’t mean I’m the one doing the running out.” Dorrie stood and started walking again.
    With panic knocking in her chest, Sandra fell in step with her. “I wish you would tell me what went wrong. And why you believe it can’t be fixed.”
    Dorrie stuffed her hands in the pockets of her old car coat. The camel wool garment appeared with the regularity of the seasons, unwrapped from the dry cleaner’s mothproofing each November, then retired to the basement each March. Sandra’s mother didn’t even change her coat, and here she was wanting to change her whole life.
    “Sandra,” she said, “a thirty-six-year marriage doesn’t end simply because
something
went wrong. It’s just that there were too many years during which nothing went right. The difference between then and now is that I’ve finally decided to do something about it.” Dorrie veered around a foamy wave that came rolling toward them. “You see, your father and I always had this vision of our lifestyle once he retired. The trouble was, we never compared notes. I assumed we would do things together—learn a new language, see the world, take dancing lessons, go to a ceramics class, try