When I was a kid, the scene I dreaded most featured my parents entering my bedroom—quietly, holding hands—to say we needed to have a “serious” talk. I already knew the phrases this talk would include: “We still love each other, but not in that way,” “Sometimes adults fall out of love,” “It’s not your fault.”
By age 12, life had already taught me the lingo of modern divorce. Though my parents stayed together, so many of my friends’ parents were splitting up in the early 1980s. I figured it was only a matter of time. Whenever my mom and dad argued, my heart would pound and an inner voice would say, “Here we go! Get ready for the overnights in a rented apartment, awkward introductions to a new girlfriend, or mom’s new boyfriend.”