The novel openly wrestles with the pain and messiness of the dissolution of Miri and Leah’s relationship, yet its tone and lyrical language indicate that there is also something of worth here. Part of the horror of romance is its often-ephemeral nature. The novel suggests that, while this horror is real and gripping, The Value of Relationships Ending is equally real.

Once upon a time, the two women were “both/and,” an entity that is both Miri and Leah or both Leah and Miri—“a fused, inextricable thing” (14)—but now they are moving toward “either/or.” It is either Miri or Leah who remains silent, who keeps quiet about all of the unspoken incidents in the relationship. They do not speak about Leah’s journey, about what she experienced; they do not engage in altercations, demanding something change. About Leah’s return, Miri wonders if she has been able to readjust to her presence (or lack thereof): “I think about this a lot in the gaps where my and Leah’s conversation ought to be. At dinner, leaning up against the counter, my tongue swells with it, my throat and palate clenching vainly around the lack” (26).