I had lived a forced fantasy for thirty three years. I played my role as did Patrick.
We did the right things at the right time, giving each other space because we didn’t want to be with each other.
Showing respect, because we kept our distance.
Oh, our children believe we had the ‘perfect’ marriage. I’ve heard them talk, in public and private.
They would think I had gone away after Patrick’s death because I couldn’t bear to be alone. That I sold the house because I could not be there without Patrick.
They would never know I went away to get away; to get away from the lies, the deception, the fraud I was.
They would never know I sold the house to get away from the emptiness that building contained.
I would die with my lies intact. I would leave them their delusion. I would never tell them the truth.