“Come on, Natalie, do not make it dramatic,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “My mother is recovering from a fall and she cannot stay alone right now. You spend all day at the office anyway, acting like some corporate executive.”
Outside the kitchen window a soft October rain was falling over the narrow streets of our neighborhood, coating the sidewalks with a faint gray shine. I stared at the man who had shared seven years of my life, the man with whom I had built a family, raised a child, taken out a mortgage, and made plans for a future that suddenly felt uncertain.
For the first time in a long while I realized I did not recognize him.
“Calvin,” I said slowly while placing the coffee pot down on the counter, “I am the marketing director of a company that generates hundreds of millions of dollars in annual revenue. I manage eight employees and I am responsible for a campaign project worth more than four hundred million dollars.”
He shrugged again with complete indifference.
“So what,” he replied. “They will find someone else to do the job. A career is replaceable. A mother is not.”