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Sometimes you have to take a good look at who you are, and what you want, and what you don't have. I don't have what it takes to be married to you, or anyone else, and I'm tired of feeling guilty about it.” He was sure, as he sat in bed with her, that he would never marry again. In marrying her, he had made a huge mistake. She was so loving and so giving, and she wanted so much from him. And all he really wanted was to build and fly his planes. It sounded childish when he said it out loud, and incredibly selfish, but it was enough for him.

“I don't care how much you're gone,” she said reasonably, “I can keep myself busy with the kids. Joe, you can't just throw us away. I love you… the kids love you…. I don't care how little we see each other, I'd rather be married to you than anyone else.” But he couldn't say the same. He knew he wanted freedom more than anything. The freedom to continue building his empire, and design extraordinary planes, the freedom not to love her anymore.

He had given all he had to give. He had realized that summer that he'd been faking it for the last year. He didn't want to do that to her, or to himself. He had nothing left. He'd been running on fumes. He hated calling her, hated being there, hated getting home for holidays, making excuses when he couldn't get back for things that were important to her. He had given her nearly four years. It had been enough for him.

She sat in bed looking shell-shocked, and when he was through, she started to cry again.

She could sense with everything she'd ever felt for him that she had already lost him, perhaps had years before. He had slipped away quietly one day, and she had never seen him go. And now all he was doing was picking up his things. The one thing he didn't want to take with him was her. She had no idea what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Die, she hoped. After being married to him, and seeing her dreams come true, no matter how hard it was sometimes, she couldn't imagine living without him.

But she knew she had to now. It was as though someone had come to tell her he had died. In a way, he had. He had opted for work and success, and not love. It seemed a poor choice to her.

“You and the kids can stay in the apartment for as long as you like. I'm going to stay in California for the rest of the year.” He had asked Hazel that morning if she would move out to L.A. till the end of the year.