OPENED THE DOOR AFTER A LONG DAY AT WORK – AND FOUND SIX OF MY HUSBAND’S RELATIVES SETTLED IN COMFORTABLY, WAITING FOR DINNER. I SMILED POLITELY, WALKED TO THE BEDROOM AND CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND ME. I HAD NO INTENTION OF COOKING – I’D ALREADY EATEN ON THE WAY HOME…

The fight was still coming.

What that evening was, was a line.

The first line I had drawn without immediately walking back across it.

And I felt, turning pages in the amber lamplight while onions fried in my kitchen without my permission, something shifting in me that I didn’t yet have words for.

The relatives left around 10:00.

I heard them go.

The children rounded up.

The coats.

The goodbyes in the hallway.

Marcus’ voice, low and cheerful, and Galina’s.

And then the door.

Then quiet.

He came back to the bedroom, and I was still reading.

He got ready for bed without speaking and lay down beside me.