For 11 months, cancer had controlled every part of our lives.
Theo had stopped working during treatment. I worked nights, picked up extra shifts, drove him to appointments, measured pills, and learned how to sleep in tiny intervals.
Some mornings, I sat in our driveway after work because I was too tired to remember why I had driven home.
Theo would squeeze my hand and say, “When this is over, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Theo had stopped working during treatment.
I never wanted repayment.
I just wanted him alive.
And now he was.
***
I turned toward him.
“Theo.”
He looked at me.
And now he was.
“You heard him, right?”
“I heard.”
No smile, no tears, no hand reaching for mine.
I told myself he was overwhelmed.
Dr. Kahn went over Theo’s follow-up plan while I wrote everything down.
Lists had become my favorite form of panic. If I could put something on paper, I could pretend it was under control.
“You heard him, right?”
Dr. Kahn finally stood.
“I’ll give you two a minute. The nurse will bring the last forms.”
The door closed behind him.
I pulled the paperwork into a neat stack.
“Okay,” I said. “You sign this one. I think this one is mine.”
“The nurse will bring the last forms.”
Theo didn’t move.
I looked at him.
“I’m calling in sick Saturday.”
That got his attention.
“You never call in sick.”
“Exactly. We’re celebrating irresponsibly. I’ll cook.”
Theo didn’t move.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“Don’t what?”
“Alicia.”
Something in his voice made me put the pen down.
“Don’t what?”
“What?”
He looked directly at me.
“I want a divorce.”
I focused on the papers and straightened a crooked page.
“You need to sign the follow-up sheet.”
“Alicia.”
“I want a divorce.”
“And we should put the next scan in both our phones,” I continued.
“Did you hear me?”
I set the pen on top of the papers.
“You’ve been cancer-free for about four hours.”
“I know.”
“Then maybe wait until dinner before ruining my life.”
“Did you hear me?”
His face tightened.
“I’m serious.”
I searched his expression for something I could fix.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then tell me why.”
“My decision is final.”
“That’s interesting, because I remember there being two people in our marriage.”
“I’ll get my things out tonight.”
That hurt more than the word divorce. He had already been planning to leave.
“Why?”
“Then tell me why.”
He looked away.
I stood.
“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to drop this on me and stare at the wall. Why?”
“I’m sorry, Alicia. Really.”
I laughed once.
He looked away.
“You’re sorry?”
“I’ve waited long enough.”
Then he walked out.
I didn’t follow him.
For once, I didn’t fix anything.
I sat there until the words on the paperwork blurred.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
“Alicia?”
I looked up.
Dr. Kahn stood in the doorway.
“Is he gone?” I asked.
“Yes. He asked reception to call him a cab.”
“Is he gone?”
I wiped my cheek with my sleeve.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That my husband was apparently waiting to beat cancer so he could leave me.”
Dr. Kahn pulled a chair closer.
“Did you know?”
“No. Theo never told me he planned to do this today.”
“But?”
He hesitated.
“There’s something you should know.”
My whole body went tight.
“What?”
“Theo never told me he planned to do this today.”
“Theo gave me permission several weeks ago to tell you something if he ever followed through with leaving.”
“He planned this with you?”
“No. But he was afraid you stayed because you felt responsible for him.”
“Responsible?”
“He worried being sick had made it impossible for you to leave.”
“He planned this with you?”
Anger came fast.
“I worked nights. I drove him here half asleep. I sat beside him when he couldn’t stand. And he thinks that was pity?”
Dr. Kahn held my gaze.
“Why he believes that is something Theo needs to explain.”
“And he thinks that was pity?”
Something cold moved through me because, suddenly, I remembered an email, an old appointment, and one night I had tried very hard to forget.
I grabbed my purse.
“Alicia. You don’t have to solve this tonight.”
I almost smiled.
He had no idea who he was talking to.
Something cold moved through me.
“I know.”
Then I drove home to solve it.
***
Theo sat at our kitchen table. His duffel bag rested beside the door.
“Dr. Kahn talked to me.”
Theo rubbed his face. “I didn’t want him explaining me.”
“Dr. Kahn talked to me.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked him to explain after you walked away.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He stared at me.
“Were you going to leave me?”
I looked away.
“What do you want me to say?”
Theo noticed.
“So there was something.”
I folded my arms.
“What did you find?”
“During the insurance dispute, you asked me to search your email for the legal paperwork. I searched the word ‘legal,'” he said. “The consultation confirmation came up.”
“So there was something.”
My stomach dropped.
“Theo.”
“Three days before my diagnosis.”
“It was a consultation.”
He gave a short laugh.
“Theo.”
“Thank God. For a second I thought my wife wanted a divorce.”
I looked away.
That was the problem with buried truths. They waited.
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“When, Ali?”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
