I knew that our marriage was imploding, but I didn't want to let Wallace and James (the sons) in on it, partially in hopes that I could turn it around, but mostly to protect them. I had to be precise and careful and mathematical and calculating and reasonable on the outside. I had to help Josiah (WH) rip away but not actually let it rip. Rips are messy, rips can make noise, rips are noticeable, I told myself. I had to be a surgeon, I told myself, help make a scar that would eventually heal so you can barely see it. I knew with everything in my body that careful, considerate moves were the way to save my fine, beautiful sweet boys from this terrible misfortune that had befallen them. But inside, inside I was Pompeii. Inside it was as if a giant had reached down my neck, had taken hold of my insides and was squeezing and squeezing.