Chapter Eighteen
Mark listened to Beth’s car leave and examined his feelings. Lena’s accusations echoed in his head, yet he felt nothing. He remembered the hurt in her eyes as she took their child and left, yet he couldn’t dredge up any emotions regarding her sudden departure: not disappointment, not anger, not surprise. Nothing.
Mark poured more wine, aware he was getting drunk and not caring. Although he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Drinking no longer dulled the pain. There was no pain to dull. He felt strangely numb, sealed within a protective cocoon of his own indifference.
His thoughts turned to Beth. Hang on a minute, there was pain after all. He pictured her sitting forlornly on the porch with that snake-filled duffel bag beside her. Cool and elegant, always the gracious hostess,
