It was a letter that upended my world. Not one of the “Dear John” variety; that would have been less painful. Nor was it a “We Regret To Inform,” but the sense of loss, while not as acute, was even more all-encompassing. No, it wasn’t a letter of the paper-and-ink kind at all. Instead, it was one of the many small sigils that make up those and many other missives, the second of the twenty-six characters that comprise the...

Neither of us spoke at first; I was too stunned, and she too ashamed. Finally, I asked in a raspy voice, “Why?” Her gaze remained steadfastly away from mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Luke. I… He was dying. And I was so… the depression, it was crushing me. I couldn’t be home with Julie. I couldn’t be home with you. And every time I was there, I felt… disconnected. I felt guilty for not being home, and then when I was home...

That wasn’t the last time that we had sex; far from it. If Allison felt the need, she would initiate, and I usually responded positively. If I felt the need, she never turned me down, no matter how tired she was. I was never cruel with her, always making sure that her body was ready with my fingers before we began, and she usually came at least once. But I used a condom every time, and we rarely fucked facing each other a...

Things were tense when we got home, less between my wife and me than between Travis and his mom. The two of them went out a few days later for a very, very long dinner. When they got home, both had been crying, but the tension had largely gone. Later that night, in bed, Allison curled up close to me and whispered. “Thank you so much, Luke. God, thank you. You’re such a good dad, and you’re a damned better husband than I d...