"You don't look like you used to. You had a waist. When did you last actually look at yourself?"
He was still saying it while he packed.
Four days of packing, in and out of that house, and at least twice a day some version of the same line: that our marriage had come apart because I had stopped taking care of myself.
He said it in front of his own brother once.
After he went I cried harder than I have ever cried about anything in my life.
Four hours of it, on a kitchen floor, with both girls at my mother's.
PART 2
The divorce took eleven months and it was, by everybody's account, a very civilised one.
And for most of those eleven months I took that man's account of me completely apart, and then put it back together wrong.
About four hundred times. At two in the morning, mostly, in a bed that was suddenly four feet too wide.
