The House Where My Husband Doesn’t Exist
“I rang the doorbell of my grandmother’s house before remembering to pull off my wedding ring. I slipped it into my pocket and, just like that, I was someone else — an actor playing a fictional version of me.
In Los Angeles this past December for the holidays, I had arranged to see my grandmother for what I assumed would be the last time; she was 96 and in failing health. When other family members nearby learned I was coming, the visit turned into an event — a bustling gathering of aunts, uncles and cousins I hadn’t seen gathered together in years. This local crowd no longer included me; I had moved to Oregon three years earlier when my husband got a job there.
Inside, one of my aunts squeezed my arm and gave me a once-over…” – via The New York Times