"I called Ford Gallagher last Sunday night," I said. "I took the Singapore position. I accepted the offer."
She stared at me.
I've also spoken with an attorney, I said. You'll be served with papers this week. I didn't want that to be the first you heard of any of it.
Eli. Her voice was barely audible. You told me if I couldn't handle your arrangement with Damon, maybe we weren't right for each other. I've thought about that a lot this week. I think you were right.
I didn't mean it like that.
I understand, but I've been thinking about it and I think it was more honest than you intended it to be.
You're leaving the country? she said. You're just... you're leaving.
I start in 6 weeks.
She stood up, sat back down. Her hands were flat on the table the way people put their hands when they're trying to stabilize something.
Eli, I love you.
I looked at her. I know you do. I don't think love has been our problem.
Then what is the problem?
We want different things, I said. You told me that yourself last Sunday morning.
I was frustrated. People say true things when they're frustrated. That's kind of the point of frustration.
She started crying. And I want to be honest about what I felt in that moment because it would be easy to say I felt nothing or I felt vindicated or I felt like I'd won something. None of those were true.
What I felt was sad. Deeply, specifically sad. The kind of sad that comes from watching something that could have been good reveal itself as something that wasn't going to survive.
I didn't comfort her. I didn't know how to do that honestly without making promises I wasn't going to keep.
I made dinner because we both needed to eat. We sat at the table and barely spoke.
Afterward, I went upstairs to the bedroom and she stayed on the couch. I don't know how late she sat there.
The weeks that followed were the logistical deconstruction of 6 years, the townhouse in East Lake.
We'd need to decide what to do with it. We'd bought it together, and the equity belonged to both of us.
Petra could buy out my share, or we could sell. She said she'd think about it.
I started sorting through my things with the calm, deliberate focus that had always served me well at work. Books I was taking, books I was leaving, art that was hers, art that was mine, art we'd bought together and had to negotiate.
My friend Todd came over one weekend and helped me pack boxes into a storage unit I'd rented near South Lake Union.