Ben's mouth set in a hard line. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Art express a similar sentiment, though he could not recall whether or not Art had actually used those words. He remembered on New Year's Eve, though — sometimes I think I ruined her life, and that was close enough. And Ben knew what it felt like to be in that seat, because how often had he thought the same thing about Melody over the past few months?

He could have said you're a good husband. He could have said that and meant it, because Art may have lost some money and he may have fought with Dez and he may have left the house for a week on a depressive drinking binge, but Art cared. And it wasn't that Ben didn't care for Melody, because he did, and he always had, but — Art cared in a way that was different, he supposed. Art cared in a way that should have been enough.

So it would have been true, but Ben didn't know if it was worth saying. Art had said something similar to him, the day before the duel, but he wasn't sure it had helped. It hadn't made him believe it, and it hadn't prevented the fight with Melody the next day. Art had said Ben was a good husband because he was trying, which was just the same sort of nebulous thing that had come to mind for Ben, thinking that Art cared. But if Ben trying wasn't enough to save his marriage with Melody, what was to say that Art caring was going to do any better for his?

Ben let out a huff of breath and looked down at his pint glass, letting his thumb rub some of the condensation off the outside of the mug. Things were different for Art and Desdemona, Ben knew that. He just didn't know how he could convey it to his friend in a way that was constructive, in a way that Art would hear. Of course there were so many differences between the two, so much so that they weren't even really comparable — Art had proposed, for one massive, glaring difference — but after a moment Ben's mind settled on one that seemed the most significant. The reason he thought that Art and Desdemona still had a chance, when he was starting to lose hope for himself and Melody.

"That's not really up to you," he said quietly. "That's her call."

And that was the difference, the biggest difference. Ben could try all he wanted, but if Melody was already gone there was no way to save anything, because there wasn't anything left to save. Desdemona had been at home this whole week — at home waiting for Art, presumably. She'd be there when Art got back, and sure, maybe they'd fight, but she'd be there in a way that Melody hadn't really been in their home since January.