At the time, I saw only rejection.
“I can’t do this, Arthur.”
Then she stood and walked out of the room.
Two days later, Goldi filed for divorce.
Everything happened so quickly that I barely understood what I was signing.
She requested no custody.
No visitation.
No financial claim against me.
She agreed that I would have sole responsibility for Leo.
She packed one suitcase.
Just one.
I stood beside the front door of our apartment holding our three-day-old son while she zipped it closed.
“You’re really leaving?”
Goldi froze.
Her back was toward me.
“Goldi.”
She still wouldn’t turn around.
“Look at him.”
Her shoulders trembled.
“Please.”
Nothing.
My anger exploded.
“LOOK AT YOUR SON.”
Leo startled against my chest.
I immediately lowered my voice.
Goldi covered her mouth with one hand.
Then she turned.
For perhaps three seconds, she looked at him.
That was all.
Three seconds.
Tears filled her eyes.
She stepped toward us.
Then stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Sorry?”
“I am so sorry.”
“Then don’t leave.”
Her face crumpled.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
She didn’t answer.
That silence became the foundation of my hatred.
I stepped away from her.
“Then go.”
She stared at me.
