We rarely talk about it, Hen and I. When I bring it up, she usually changes the subject. I got the news about the long list and I started thinking about the future and what’s to come, what may or may not happen, what it would be like in either situation, staying or going, the good and bad of both. I also started thinking about the past, my past, what came before, what brought me here. The big stuff. Meaningful memories that I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Specific memories have been returning to me in waves. I have begun to remember the first few years that Hen and I lived here, what life was like for us then.

I wouldn’t tell Hen any of this, of course. That’s the deal I made with myself. Try to ride this out solo, if I can. Protect her. Let her forget. Just be myself, as though nothing has changed, as though everything is exactly as it always was. Even if it isn’t. That’s my duty to her. I don’t want to upset or worry her. And that’s what Terrance’s arrival in our lives did. His brief visit rattled her. I try to pretend everything is the same as before, like everything is normal. I behave like all is well.

We get up in the morning. I go out to the barn. I feed the chickens. I walk around outside. I shower. We eat breakfast. We go to work. We come home for supper. Some nights Hen plays her piano. I drink a beer, maybe two. We discuss our days, recounting any funny or unusual occurrences. We do it again the next day.

One short, innocuous visit from a stranger, that’s all it was. Why does it have to have such impact, such force? I’ve decided it shouldn’t, that it doesn’t have to. No matter what happens in the future, nothing in our relationship needs to be affected now. I should refocus on the present. We are a couple, like before. And it’s my responsibility to simply be myself, to be who I have always been, for Hen’s sake.

Nothing in our routine was altered or transformed. But, against my will, I feel myself changing. I feel myself changed.