Here's an excerpt from my novel, which I still have not named. If you have any name ideas, let me know! The story is a romance and our heroine is 52 years old.
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The clank of Christopher’s heavy gold wedding band hitting the slate floor in the kitchen after he tries to give it back to me rattles through me louder than the actual sound. My life, our life, our family’s life is shattering. He tried to hand his wedding ring back to me! But I wouldn’t take it; it slipped through our hands. As it seems our marriage of 25 years is, too.
Suddenly there’s roaring in my ears and my heart is pounding. My legs give way next, and I find myself half sitting, half lying on the cold green slate. I’m having trouble breathing. It doesn’t help that I have asthma. I see motion out of my peripheral vision. It’s Christopher getting my inhaler and handing it down to me. No words; certainly I have none, and Christopher is quiet this once.
After using the Albuterol, I sit for a couple of minutes, getting air back into my lungs. How did we get here? We love each other, right? He’s my rock. My thoughts are racing. This can’t be happening. I look at Christopher, and by the expression on his face—one I recognize only too well—he’s not going to stand down. It’s his lawyerly “I’m going to win” face. Firm set to his features. Straight mouth, lips closed. Steady eyes.
When I stand, I walk to Christopher, and get right up in his face. “What the hell? What’s going on? How could you? I made your career: I was the perfect lawyer’s wife, hosting and socializing to get you where you are. I raised our kids while you were too busy to pay attention to them—or me for that matter. I did everything you wanted. And now you’re leaving me?
“You did everything you thought I wanted,” he calmly replies. “Besides, you don’t even want me to touch you anymore.”
