My Husband Betrayed Me With Our Sons Wife Then We Made Sure Neither of Them Walked Away Unchanged

It was still there. Where it had been for twelve years. Under the owner’s manual and the expired registration cards and a pack of tissues and an old ice scraper.

A long white envelope. Yellowed now. Soft at the corners.

On the front, in my father’s heavy, square handwriting:

Carol. Open this the day he disappoints you. Not before.

I picked it up. I held it in my lap.