It would be a mistake. I would make it. I would follow through on it.
There would be no mystery in the ‘mystery’ manufactured by Penny’s uncle’s art project.
There would be nothing I didn’t ‘realize until it was too late.’
There would be nothing I didn’t ‘realize until it was too late’ with Penny.
What there would be, instead, was refusal—the refusal to recognize the extent to which I’d lied to myself about the sort of man I wasn’t.
So I asked you: is this the right decision?