Everything I Should Have Said To Him

“I love you”—of course I said that to him,

many times; we were married, after all. But

when he felt so trapped—in his mid-40s, in

his systems engineering job, in the mortgage,

and as the adopted son of an infertile

husband-and-wife pair of doctors—when he

felt so wounded-animal trapped that excising

his love of eighteen years somehow finally

seemed like how he could at least breathe

again, I forgot to remind him of how he fell in

love with how I’m both more cynical and

more sincere than him (and it isn’t even a

contradiction for me). I should have told him

plain that I would always still be in love with

him, told him back then just before he made

me move out, should have made more clear

that however he had changed how he felt

about how he felt, I would be pained and in

love still, and ever since that first date we

had February, 2001—that Krispy Kreme

doughnut shop and trolley ride downtown

first date. I should have reminded him that

no matter what, I’d be in love with him my

whole life, regardless.