I told them I was going to try to get some sleep, but I don't think I fooled anyone. None of us would sleep that night. I hadn't even tried. I was still wide awake, sitting in a chair across the room from the too wide bed, staring at it as if it were a stranger in my house; thinking too much; repeatedly, relentlessly recalling that the last thing my husband and I had done together was to part in anger. I do not know of any potion as bitter as the realization that one may have lost all opportunity to ask forgiveness.
Hours earlier I had been more complacent about making apologies. Frank didn't show up for dinner, but I...