I ABANDONED MY WIFE FOR FOUR DAYS TO SPOIL MY MISTRESS—AND BY THE TIME I RETURNED, MY WIFE HAD NEARLY DIED ALONE IN THE SNOW

The regional transit bus pulled up to the curb with a loud hiss of air brakes.

I paid my four-dollar fare, carried my canvas duffel bag down the narrow aisle, and took a window seat near the back.

The bus pulled away from the curb, accelerating down the highway toward Denver Union Station, where I had a ticket for an interstate coach headed east toward a small construction firm in Ohio that hired former felons.

As the bus crested the rise near the highway interchange, the sweeping panorama of the Rocky Mountain range unfolded across the western horizon.

The high peaks of Pass Creek were already capped in fresh, brilliant white snow, shining under the vast, clear blue sky.

Eleven years ago, I had held Clara’s hands on a snowy ridge and promised her that if she ever got lost in the snow, I would search until I couldn't stand. I had broken that promise in the most monstrous way imaginable, choosing vanity over honor, and wealth over love.

She had dragged herself through six miles of sub-zero hell, torn up her own heartbreak, and built a fortress out of the blizzard. She hadn't needed a savior. She had saved herself, and in doing so, she had delivered the ultimate justice: she had rendered me entirely, completely unnecessary.

I pulled my jacket tight against the draft from the bus window.

I didn't feel bitter. I didn't feel angry. As I watched the white peaks fade into the distance behind the dusty glass, I felt only a vast, quiet, and absolute acceptance.