A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
My own master’s degree diploma hung on the wall in a silver-plated frame, looking suddenly ostentatious in the dim light. I had always viewed that piece of paper as the ultimate proof of my hard work, the justification for the long hours and the missed family dinners.
Now, the memory of the twelve thousand dollar transfer slip from her maiden name account burned in my mind.
I had built my career on her foundation, and then I had stood on that foundation and told her that her world was simple.
I stood up from the desk, the leather chair squeaking slightly in the dark. I walked slowly down the hallway toward our bedroom, my boots clicking against the hardwood floor before I slipped them off.
The bedroom was dark, the curtains pulled tight against the autumn night. Anna was already in bed, lying on her side near the edge of the mattress, her shape a still shadow beneath the heavy quilt.
I climbed in on my side, the sheets cold against my skin.
I reached out, intending to lay my hand on her shoulder, to feel the familiar warmth of her body and find some way to bridge the gap that had opened between us.
