Broken Heart

He looked careworn, faded. His face was slack, his posture slouchy. He didn't say much after I answered his questions. He missed his wife. Even though they had argued and she left impulsively.

"She didn't leave you," I tried.

"She wanted that baby more than me." He burst into tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

"All she ever talked about was having kids!" He threw his hands up in the air, blew his nose on a hankie, and slumped back into his chair. "She'd get mad if we didn't try. She hated having to camp."

"You'll probably see her again inside."

He paused to take a drink, but his cup was empty. He slammed it down and stood up. "I might not want to!"

My heart broke. This was a delicate time. I let him go off and grieve, for it was grief.

"He'll come around." his mother said.

"He's crazy to let her go. Should have put his foot down," his sister surmised.

I wiped my eyes and rubbed my temples. She rounded on me. "Why couldn't you have taken them both?!"

"The caldera might still reject her."