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Fighting again. I drove alone to the restaurant where I left my credit card; I've never done that before, and that was even before we started for the day.

I drove home from the fighting, crying like so many times before. I was angry and tired and depressed. So low I felt like I could see my own death years ahead in some way. And then, sitting at my computer and trying to buy an airline ticket, I noticed that my credit card was missing.

Godfuckingdammit! We had already exchanged the usual e mails, although I wasn't up to it today. That's how he does things, he insists on e mailing when fighting and I hate it. Actually I hate the whole thing. Anyway, we had e mailed each other, and I sent mine feeling as though I was choking on brackish water, a futile exercise.

Now I e mailed again, thinking I left it on his desk or on the counter at his house. He replied sourly and suggested I simply call the restaurant as he "looked everywhere." (You should know that it is commonplace for him to leave a credit card behind, so for him it probably seemed like a stupid request from me, asking him to look for it.) Well, I couldn't help but be nervous! Excuse the hell out of me. I called.

A woman answered the phone. "You know what, hon, let me get the ...

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