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<\/p>\nThe kitchen smelled of steamed kale and hopelessness. For six months, this had been my laboratory.<\/p>\n
After David\u2019s massive coronary, the doctor had been clear: \u201cChange his lifestyle, or plan his funeral.\u201d I chose the lifestyle. I threw out the salt shaker. I banished the butter. I learned to cook chicken breast so plain it could have passed for office supplies.\u00a0I spent months cooking him strict, salt-free, healthy meals to save his life<\/b>.<\/p>\n David hated it. He hated me for enforcing it.<\/p>\n \u201cThis tastes like wet paper,\u201d he would grumble, pushing a plate of quinoa away. \u201cHe complained every day<\/b>\u201c. He acted like a prisoner of war, and I was the warden. I took the abuse because I loved him. I thought I was fighting for our future.<\/p>\n Then came the laundry day that changed everything.<\/p>\n I was emptying the pockets of his jeans before tossing them in the wash. Usually, it was just lint or gum wrappers. This time, a crumpled piece of thermal paper fell out.<\/p>\n I smoothed it out. It was a receipt from\u00a0Burger Barn<\/i>.<\/p>\n \u201cDouble Bacon Burger,\u201d<\/b>\u00a0it read.\u00a0Dated yesterday<\/b>.<\/p>\n My hands shook. A Double Bacon Burger wasn\u2019t just a slip-up; for a man with his arteries, it was a suicide attempt. I felt a surge of panic. Was he trying to kill himself? Was he that unhappy with the steamed fish?<\/p>\n I decided to intervene. The next day, when he said he was going to his \u201ccardiac rehab support group,\u201d I grabbed my keys.<\/p>\n I followed him<\/b>.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t drive to the hospital. He drove to the other side of town, pulling into the parking lot of a greasy spoon diner\u2014the kind with neon signs and menus laminated in grease.<\/p>\n I parked three spots away and watched. He didn\u2019t go in alone. A woman got out of the car next to him. I recognized the blonde hair instantly. It was Jessica. His ex-girlfriend from college. The one he always said was \u201ccrazy\u201d but \u201cfun.\u201d<\/p>\n They walked in together, laughing. I crept up to the window, shielding my eyes from the glare.<\/p>\n There they were in a booth. David was laughing harder than he had in years. And in front of him sat a monstrosity of grease, cheese, and bacon. He took a huge bite, juice running down his chin, and Jessica wiped it away with a napkin, smiling adoringly.<\/p>\n The realization hit me harder than the smell of fryer oil.<\/p>\n He wasn\u2019t cheating on his diet\u2014he was cheating on me<\/b>.<\/p>\n The burger wasn\u2019t a death wish; it was a date. He was risking his life not for the food, but for the company. While I was at home measuring sodium levels to the milligram to keep his heart beating, he was out here giving that heart to the woman who helped him destroy it.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t storm in. I didn\u2019t make a scene. I felt a sudden, profound sense of release.<\/p>\n I drove home. I took the chicken thawing on the counter and threw it in the trash. I took the salt-free spice blends and dumped them. I ordered a pizza\u2014extra cheese, extra pepperoni\u2014and poured myself a glass of wine.<\/p>\n When David came home hours later, smelling of mints and deception, he walked into the kitchen expecting his usual grim dinner.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s for dinner?\u201d he asked, feigning the usual annoyance. \u201cMore cardboard chicken?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing,\u201d I said, taking a bite of my pizza.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, nothing? You know I have to eat on a schedule.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know,\u201d I said, smiling for the first time in months. \u201cI stopped cooking.<\/b>\u201c.<\/p>\n \u201cBut\u2026 my heart,\u201d he stammered. \u201cWho\u2019s going to make sure I don\u2019t die?\u201d<\/p>\n I looked him dead in the eye. \u201cAsk Jessica.\u201d<\/p>\n His face went white.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m done saving a life you\u2019re so eager to throw away,\u201d I said, picking up my wine glass. \u201cLet her drive him to the ER next time.<\/b>\u201c.<\/p>\n I walked out of the kitchen, leaving him standing there with his failing heart and his empty stomach, realizing that the most vital organ he had lost wasn\u2019t his heart\u2014it was his wife.<\/p>\n