«I believed that if Mary came to the show, I could do it - I could give our marriage one more try. (...)
I felt sure she would come to the play, see how hard I was working, see that I was a part of something of worth, and remember the man she fell in love with - though I hardly resembled him. From the wings, I searched the twelve hundred faces in the house - looked at every pair of eyes. She wasn't there.
Not yet.
There were two empty seats right front and center - and if she were to come, she would certainly have great seats and be late - so maybe. The facts were lining up against me, however. I just kept hoping I was wrong, like maybe the earth could spin in a different direction, or dogs could talk, or flowers could blossom in a blizzard; anything so that the discomfort of a long drawn-out divorce could be dodged. Starting over seems so impossible when you don't know how far back you need to travel.»
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