She came home each night—not at the same time, but mostly when the kids were awake—even though the work wasn’t done and she finished her work in the kitchen even though it was nearly impossible. Hannah wanted to talk about why she didn’t have a phone and Solly wanted to play Uno and Toby wanted her to stare at him adoringly and listen to endless, endless stories about liver diagnoses. She knew so much about that disgusting organ, she could have diagnosed at least four or five major and rare diseases. Here’s how it would go every night:

HER: I’m home!

HIM: You’ll never believe what happened today and how screwed/ignored/underestimated I was.

HER: Let’s talk about it! Let me just say hi to the kids and answer these texts, because I have a premiere tonight….

HIM: You never care about me.

HER: What? How can you say that?

HIM: Listen to you. You’re barely here. You’re barely a mother.

HER: Did you hear the part where I have a premiere? Did you not hear the part where I want to say hi to the kids?

HIM: I can’t bear your anger anymore.