CHAPTER 1: THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PARTY
The night before the celebration, I had stood in June’s doorway while she chose between two dresses. She wanted the blue one because it reminded her of Neptune. Grant had called from downstairs to complain that the caterer had changed the seating chart. I told him I would fix it. He never asked how June was feeling after her latest appointment. She had overheard him on the phone earlier that week and wanted to know why he called a stranger “our new beginning.” I said adults sometimes used phrases carelessly. The answer satisfied neither of us. Looking back, I can see the tiny negotiations I made with myself: one more dinner without a fight, one more insult explained away, one more evening spent smoothing the edges of someone else’s temper. It is easy to judge those choices from the far side of a crisis. It is harder to describe the way an unhappy marriage becomes ordinary in small increments. I had learned to plan parties, organize medications, balance accounts, and read Grant’s moods before he entered a room. I had not learned to ask whether the person doing all that work was happy. June chose the blue dress. I kissed her forehead and promised we would leave early if she grew tired. She asked whether Grandma would like it. I said I hoped so. What I meant was that I hoped her grandmother would see her.
