H OW DID YOU REMAIN SO confident? So steadfast in your resolve?” I ask Evelyn. “When Don left me? Or when my career went down the tubes?” “Both, I guess,” I say. “I mean, you had Celia, so it’s a little different, but still.” Evelyn cocks her head slightly. “Different from what?” “Hm?” I say, lost in my own thoughts. “You said I had Celia, so it was a little different,” Evelyn clarifies. “Different from what?” “Sorry,” I say. “I was ... in my own head.” I have momentarily let my own relationship problems seep into what should be a one-way conversation. Evelyn shakes her head. “No need to be sorry. Just tell me different from what.” I look at her and realize that I’ve opened a door that can’t really be shut. “From my own impending divorce.” Evelyn smiles, almost like the Cheshire Cat. “Now things are getting interesting,” she says. It bothers me, her cavalier attitude toward my own vulnerability. It’s my fault for bringing it up. I know that. But she could treat it with more kindness. I’ve exposed myself. I’ve exposed a wound. “Have you signed the papers?” Evelyn asks. “Perhaps with a tiny heart above the 7 in Monique? That’s what I would do.” “I guess I don’t take divorce as lightly as you,” I say. It comes out flatly. I consider softening, but... I don’t. “No, of course not,” Evelyn says kindly. “If you did, at your age, you’d be a cynic.” “But at your age?” I ask. “With my experience? A realist.” “That, in and of itself, is awfully cynical, don’t you think? Divorce is loss.”