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was better, I still wasn’t “better.”
    “I got a bike.” Tony wheeled it into the only open space by the sink and refrigerator.
    “So I see.”
    “One of the guys gave it to me, because he bought a new one over the weekend. I thought you and I could buy another one and go for rides together.”
    I had no words to express to Tony what a bad idea that was. A bicycle wouldn’t “fix” what I had. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was a kid. Why would I want to start again now?
    “Did you go out this morning?” He motioned toward the stack of magazines beside me. I was still in my pj’s, nestled under the covers, but Tony knew the only way I could get more magazines was by walking to the dairy.
    “No, I already had these,” I said defensively.
    He came closer, scrutinizing the headlines and pictures on the covers. “What possible value do you gain from reading this sort of stuff?”
    What Tony didn’t realize was that he was talking disrespectfully of my friends. And in front of them, no less. The people in these magazines had been my only companions since we had arrived.
    “Hey, do I start criticizing the way you spend your day the minute you walk in here?”
    Tony raised his eyebrows but quickly edited his usual comeback. We’d already had this argument. A couple of times. He spent his days profitably, immersed in his dream job. Me? Ihad no reason to get up in the morning. In seventy-four days we would leave here, and I’d get back my life. But for now, the only option I could see was hibernation.
    Tony positioned himself rigidly against the counter and lowered his voice. “Kathleen, listen.”
    I steadied myself for the worst. Whenever he edited his thoughts to a two-word sentence, and my full name was one of the two words, I knew it wouldn’t be good.
    “What do you need?” he asked.
    “Not a bike.”
    “What then?”
    “I don’t know.”
    He seemed to be working very hard to get the next sentence to come out of his mouth. When it did, I knew he meant it.
    “Do you want us to go back home?”
    My first thought was,
Yes!
Then some long-buried competitive seed inside me sprouted, and I thought of how I’d barely lasted longer than the woman from Canoga Park. I could do better than that. Much better.
    I stared at Tony but didn’t give him any feedback with my words or my expression. This man, who was looking at me with sincere tenderness, had sold his father’s rare coin collection to buy my engagement ring. He had been there for me every moment during our two miscarriages. In our wedding vows, I had drawn from the book of Ruth and promised, “Where you go, I will go; where you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, your God will be my God.”
    And now he was willing to give up his dream job to restore my sanity.
    I hated what I had become. Instead of an adventurousmama bird on a three-month sabbatical from work and routine who soared through new experiences, I’d tucked my head under my wing and folded up inside myself.
    Blinking away a tear, I looked down at the magazine beside me. Details of a celebrity’s messy divorce were splashed across the front.
    “No.” I shook my head and met Tony’s gaze. “I don’t want to leave. We need to stay here.”
    “Are you sure?”
    I nodded, and with a firm voice I said, “Yes, I’m sure.”
    Tony looked as if he were trying to mask his relief and select his next words carefully. “Okay. Then if we’re going to stay, and we both agree about that, what do you need to make this time in New Zealand work for you? You have to tell me what you need.”
    I paused. Not a single thought came to mind. Whenever my friend Patsy went on autopilot like this at work, she would say “This is why they put the word
pause
in
menopause.
” Were more changes happening inside me than I realized?
    “I honestly don’t know,” I said at last. My voice was more tender than it had been in two weeks. “I don’t know what I need.”
    “What about doing