“Embarrassed,” she said. “Angry. Relieved, sometimes.”
“Relieved?”
“That the uncertainty was over. The last few months were…” She traced one finger along the edge of the cup. “I knew something was wrong. I kept trying to make the relationship more efficient.”
I did not laugh.
“What did that look like?”
“Scheduling dates. Taking over chores. Trying to reduce stress for her. I believed if I removed enough problems, we would become happy again.”
The ketchup bottle stopped halfway to my hand.
“Amy.”
“She said I made everything feel like work.”
“That was cruel.”
“It was partly true.”
“No.”
The denial came out harder than I intended. Amy’s shoulders drew in anyway.
“I treated the relationship like a system.”
“You were trying to save it.”
“By controlling it.”
“Those are not the same.”
“Sometimes they are.”
The pancakes arrived before I could respond. The server placed a plate in front of Amy. Three blueberry pancakes, powdered sugar, butter. Amy looked at them.
“This is too much.”
“You ran six miles.”
“That does not change stomach capacity.”
“It changes pancake law.”
“There is no pancake law.”
“Lake City municipal code.”
She poured syrup. I watched her.
“Why did you stop racing?” she asked.
My fork paused.
“You said you stopped after the second marathon.”
“Yeah.”
