Read Online 50 by Avery Corman - Free Book Online Page B

jockey.”
    “Maybe we should have an electric scoreboard and keep a tally on cutting remarks.”
    “Maybe we should just call it quits.”
    “That’s a good idea.”
    There it was, after years. “Maybe we should just call it quits.” “That’s a good idea.” Once they started the discussion of how they would break up, they never questioned whether they would, and they were soon talking to lawyers. “Maybe we should just call it quits.” She had offered that tentatively, not, “I want a divorce.” “I’m moving out.” “You’re moving out.” If he had said anything other than “That’s a good idea,” might they have stayed together? he wondered. He saw himself again sitting there with her. You don’t say, “That’s a good idea.” You say, “It’s not a good idea.” You say, “No, Susan. When the kids were little we were involved with each other and we worked together. We have to work together again, on the marriage, on doing things together, on taking an interest in each other. And it starts right now. Give me the fashion section. Give me Vogue. Let’s talk hemlines. Let’s talk anything. I love you.” And you get up. You get out of your chair. You cross the room. You take her in your arms. And you do that the next time and the next and it starts right there. Get up! Walk across the room. Don’t just sit there. Get up!
    He recalled his culpability, the times he returned her distance with his, her doubts with his, the times he had not transcended their arguments, their crises by saying, “We have to survive this. We are crucial.” He had joint custody of the failure.
    Doug was going to be 48. When he was a child he wanted so much to be older he expanded his age. “I’m almost nine.” As this birthday approached he never would have said, I’m almost 48. On his birthday the children gave him a sports encyclopedia as a gift, and they went to dinner in a Chinese restaurant where Karen and Andy arranged for Doug to be served a pineapple for dessert adorned with sparklers, several waiters singing “Happy Birthday.” “If you have to be forty-eight, you’re the people to be forty-eight with,” he said to his children. He also received a few birthday cards, from Jeannie, his parents, his brother and sister-in-law. For people my age maybe they should have the reverse of belated birthday cards. “Sorry. I remembered.”
    An imperial Russian ballroom was Susan’s creation for Neiman Marcus, a fashion show against a backdrop of mirrors, chandeliers, hostesses in gowns, uniformed guards, Russian wolfhounds. The event was covered by Women’s Wear Daily through Jeannie’s efforts. Doug received a check from Susan for her share of Karen’s camp expenses and checks continued to arrive at intervals to be applied toward the children’s tuition. Then she sent him thirty-five hundred dollars, her full share of the children’s latest tuition bill, the largest check he had ever received from her. His first response was elation. Irony took over. It would envelop him at random times, while he was paying bills, while he was at work. He would have a sinking sensation in his stomach like an anxiety attack. This is my own invention, an irony attack. Is it possible you’re going to become successful now, when we’re not married anymore? All those years when I lay awake nights worrying about the bills, when I felt everything was on my shoulders and you weren’t concerned about finances and you become concerned now. If I were going to mess up a marriage I should have been smart enough to wait for you to earn some money. But for you to make a move to be successful now. That has a real edge to it, Susan. It’s the ultimate Fuck You.

5
    T HE NEW YORK CITY Marathon produced a number of calls to Doug at the newspaper, people looking for publicity, the first Abraham Lincoln to run the race (this was an actor promoting his one-man show), a Watusi warrior in full regalia promoting “Watusi Tall Fashions,”