Lauren wanted the dining table.
I let her have it.
I wanted the old leather chair from the library.
She did not care.
Wedding gifts were split.
The espresso machine went with Lauren.
That felt correct.
The Cartier watch became a strange issue because Gregory listed it as a post-separation gift and asked whether I intended it to be part of settlement discussions.
Maya called me laughing.
“What?”
“Nothing. I've just never had to categorize a Cartier watch purchased before separation and delivered with a divorce card.”
“Very funny.”
“Was it a gift?”
“Yes.”
“Unconditional?”
“Yes.”
“Then it's hers.”
“Good.”
Later I learned Lauren rarely wore it.
That hurt more than it should have.
Two months after separation, she asked to meet.
Neutral place.
Coffee shop near Palmer Square.
Maya said there was no legal reason not to.
So I went.
Lauren looked different.
Hair shorter.
No wedding ring.
Neither was I wearing mine.
She ordered tea.
I ordered coffee.
For the first ten minutes, we discussed paperwork.
Then she said:
“Blake transferred to Manhattan.”
I looked at her.
“Okay.”
“He and his wife are back together.”
“I assumed.”
Lauren stirred her tea.
“I feel stupid.”
I did not answer.
“I don't mean because he chose her.”
She looked up.
“I mean because I built this entire fantasy around somebody who never had to live with me.”
That was probably the most self-aware thing she had said in years.
“He got the interesting version.”
She continued.
“Drinks. Hotels. Complaints about our spouses.”
She laughed bitterly.
“He didn't get bills. Flu. Laundry. Bad moods. Family holidays.”
I said:
“Neither did you get his.”
“I know.”
We sat quietly.
Then she said:
“I was cruel to you.”
“Yes.”
“I kept telling myself you were emotionally unavailable.”
“I probably was sometimes.”
“You were.”
She gave a sad smile.
“But I used that to justify everything.”
I appreciated the distinction.
She looked down.
“When you packed my things, I hated you.”
“I assumed.”
“I told my mother you were cold.”
“Also assumed.”
“She asked me whether you were colder than leaving with Blake.”
I almost smiled.
“Your mother likes clean facts too.”
“She does.”
Lauren's eyes filled.
“I thought you'd come after me.”
There it was.
The truth I had suspected.
“Why?”
“Because you always did.”
“When?”
“Whenever we fought. You were always the one who came upstairs. Called first. Fixed things.”
I nodded.
“I thought if you loved me enough, you'd stop me.”
“That wasn't my job.”
“I know that now.”
“You wanted me to physically stop you?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I wanted proof.”
“Of what?”
“That I mattered.”
I stared at her.
“You were my wife.”
“I know.”