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“Good question. What happened… I don’t know. We were deliriously happy. I loved her. She loved me. We had our kids, did a great job with them, if I say so myself. I’m very proud of every single one of them. But then…something was missing. I suppose, Janet said it first. She asked what was going on. We simply…grew apart. There was no hatred between us, no drama. The whole divorce thing was really boring, actually. We still have a good relationship. A lot of it revolves around work, actually. She has her gallery, which was ours before, and I hunt down great art. We’re comfortable financially, as you can see. I think it was a bit difficult for the kids, but in the end, they understood and agree it’s better for everyone.”

Konnor felt it. The man was being truthful with him. It was in the ease of his words, in his relaxed pose, in his tone.

“So there was no pain? When you divorced?”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Not pain exactly. More like sadness, I think. I did mourn our relationship. We were happy, and I’d thought we’d always be together. You don’t marry someone thinking you’ll be done with them one day, right?”

“That would be what I’d be thinking,” Konnor mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Tell me. Did you say you’d be thinking that?”

Konnor sipped his coke, regretting his words, hoping he could distract the man. He had no intention of talking about his feelings and limitations. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Mark said. “It actually does. It’s not my business, of course, but I do think you and I, and your mother, share something deep and unfortunate. That experience of being abused and helpless and being taught all the wrong things about life. I used to hate everything and everyone. I stole stuff. I beat the shit out of others. I thought bad things about myself because my father’s fists taught me to do so. I think that’s why I went to study art, to find the relief from pain.”

Konnor nodded thoughtfully. For someone with a similar violent upbringing, Mark seemed like a normal guy now. Not broken. And he was a family man who’d raised three kids.

“Did your ex ever accuse you of being emotionally unavailable?”

Mark rubbed his chin with an amused half-smile. “Is that what your girlfriend accuses you of?”

Actually, Marjorie had never said that to him. She was hurt he left, but she was the first person he’d opened up to. He’d told her his worst insecurities, and, surprisingly, she’d accepted him. Not only accepted, she’d actually kissed him.

For the first time in his life, he’d been emotionally available to a woman. And he’d loved it.

He loved her.

She’d believed in him unconditionally. She’d trusted him and hadn’t been afraid of him. She’d said he could be a wonderful husband and father.

“What helped you be a good husband and father, Mark? Your dad, like my stepdad, was a terrible role model. What made you think you could do it?”

Mark chuckled. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t think I could do it until the day my daughter was born. But the moment I held that little pink baby in my arms, the moment I heard her first cry, I knew what I didn’t want to be. Him. That I’d do anything in my power to shield her from that. That I’d be the opposite of my father, whatever that meant. I wouldn’t be violent. Wouldn’t be a selfish asshole. And suddenly, I was thankful to him for showing me how bad someone could be. For giving me the choice of not being like him. And every day of my life, I wasn’t. And it’s because I know that darkness that I can choose light. And I can show my wife and my kids light.”

He blinked.

“I think your mother knows it, too. And so do you, Konnor. So do you.”

Konnor stared at the soccer field but didn’t see it. The sounds of crowd yelling grew quieter and became echoey. He felt like he was being lifted out of his body and flying up, staring at himself sitting next to Mark from a distance.

Mark was right. Why was he so fixated on not knowing how to be a good father and a husband? Of course he didn’t know. But no one knew until they figured it out. And sometimes, knowing what you don’t want to be was enough. It was everything, actually.

And what about love leading to pain? Could it be any worse than what he’d gone through when he’d left Marjorie?

He knew exactly what he wanted to be.

And, for some strange reason, that gave him exactly the freedom he needed to know that as long as he didn’t become his stepfather, he’d be all right.

He’d make Marjorie happy.

He’d teach Colin soccer and read him the Lord of the Rings, and show him what it took to be a good man.

Because, in a perverse way, that was exactly what Jerry had taught him.

“You are all right, aren’t you?” Konnor said to Mark.