Shirley felt afraid as she lay beside Glen. She didn’t know him. Whomever she married, or thought she did, was not this person.
She wanted a happy man, a frivolous guy she could joke with. This man beside her was a stranger.
She wondered if a divorce was possible. If he would agree or become enraged.
Zac began crying, she glanced at the clock. She had lay here for over four hours, unable to sleep.
She rose, she went to her child; this stranger who was her child. This stranger who was more of a son to her sister than to her.
Shirley had always seen herself as a silly, casual person. Not as the wife of some military man who often went on classified missions. Not as the mother of a child she saw as a stranger.