CHAPTER 70
I’m telling Justin about the day Chris died, and I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds. Like I could be talking about the high-school journalism class we took together or the term paper I wrote one semester on Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.
Some people might think it’s a good sign that I’m so relaxed, but I’m embarrassed by my own lack of emotions. Am I really that cold? That unfeeling?
Have I even cried for Chris?
I’ve cried since the day he died. But how much of that is actual grief for my husband? Sure, we were in a complicated relationship, I’d moved out a few weeks earlier and then back in, but we were still married. Is the fact that my husband had issues supposed to make it easier for me to adjust to life as a widow?
Have I cried for him? I don’t think I’ve asked my
