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Authors: Valerie Miner
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wasnât all serendipity. I still felt pangs about turning down grad school at Berkeley. But Lou really needed to be at Yale for divinity school. And Rutgers had a perfectly good art history program. What else could I have done? I didnât want to be in California, that was part of the truth. As much as I missed the West, I didnât want to be that close to my parents. So choosing Rutgers hadnât been sheer accommodation.
Strange to have his map of life darting before my eyes now. It was as if I were preparing some kind of defense for Kath. Ludicrous to worry this way; so what if she didnât approve of all my choices? What did it matter?
Likewise ⦠oh, shitâa truck cut in front of Louâs Saab. Damn, I was always more afraid of getting into an accident in his car. A chorus of honks erupted from the hot irritable drivers. My own horn blasting among them. Ugh, Massachusetts summers were so sticky and tempers short. Likewise ⦠it had been a completely mutual decision when we chose Cambridge over Seattle to settle. I had to decline a tenure-track job at the University of Washington to take a temporary appointment near Lou. He was right that I would get a better post soon. Still, I did occasionally find myself reading articles here and there about the San Juan Islands. When I shopped, I still looked discerningly at raincoats.
Lou was sitting at the dining room table eating cold roast potatoes from last nightâs dinner, engrossed in the Sunday New York Times.
âI put out your green parka. It was in a hall closet and I thought you might forget it.â He studied my hair. âNice cut.â
I kissed the top of his lush, curly mane. âThatâs sweet of you.â The archetypal southern gallant, he never commented on my shifting hair color.
Now I sat beside this man who was affable, hardworking, socially engaged, able to juggle fourteen things at once and still have spare energy. One infidelity does not a marriage break. As he said, although Sonia was a younger woman, she wasnât a student but a colleague from a different department. No hint of sexual harassment or even inappropriateness unless you were running for president. I mean, how could a sixties woman get unstuck over a little sex? Sex, not infidelity. Infidelity was an arcane concept. That affair with Sonia was over last year and forgotten as far as he was concerned. Sure, I had a right to be pissed off. But it was just a blip in our long, steady marriage. Nevertheless, it reminded me how we had both changed over the last twenty years. We had grown a little bored with one another. Resting my elbows on the table, I told myself that compared to most marriages we were doing fine, emotionally, materially.
âThe coat. Thatâs very thoughtful of you, especially since you donât want me to go camping.â The irritation slipped out.
âIt isnât that I âdonât wantâ you to go. Rather the expedition strikes me as one more obligation in a life overcrowded with commitments.â He leaned back, stretching his muscular arms above his head. Dark hairs peeked from the sleeve of his white T-shirt. I could almost smell the familiar, arousing sweat and taste his salty skin.
We were on different planets. He didnât understand my tie to the West, to Kath. I didnât completely understand it either, but he couldnât even see it.
Lou continued, âI think youâll regret not working on the bibliography this week. Iâm worried about you being exhausted by the time you get to the conference. And frankly, I think you got yourself into this thing on a sentimental whim. Since the others have backed out, you should feel free to cancel, too.â
âNancy didnât back out. She has cancer surgery.â
âThe others.â He addressed the magazine, which reeked from one of those deadly perfume ads.
âKath is going.â
He was silent.
âAnd the fact is,
Strange to have his map of life darting before my eyes now. It was as if I were preparing some kind of defense for Kath. Ludicrous to worry this way; so what if she didnât approve of all my choices? What did it matter?
Likewise ⦠oh, shitâa truck cut in front of Louâs Saab. Damn, I was always more afraid of getting into an accident in his car. A chorus of honks erupted from the hot irritable drivers. My own horn blasting among them. Ugh, Massachusetts summers were so sticky and tempers short. Likewise ⦠it had been a completely mutual decision when we chose Cambridge over Seattle to settle. I had to decline a tenure-track job at the University of Washington to take a temporary appointment near Lou. He was right that I would get a better post soon. Still, I did occasionally find myself reading articles here and there about the San Juan Islands. When I shopped, I still looked discerningly at raincoats.
Lou was sitting at the dining room table eating cold roast potatoes from last nightâs dinner, engrossed in the Sunday New York Times.
âI put out your green parka. It was in a hall closet and I thought you might forget it.â He studied my hair. âNice cut.â
I kissed the top of his lush, curly mane. âThatâs sweet of you.â The archetypal southern gallant, he never commented on my shifting hair color.
Now I sat beside this man who was affable, hardworking, socially engaged, able to juggle fourteen things at once and still have spare energy. One infidelity does not a marriage break. As he said, although Sonia was a younger woman, she wasnât a student but a colleague from a different department. No hint of sexual harassment or even inappropriateness unless you were running for president. I mean, how could a sixties woman get unstuck over a little sex? Sex, not infidelity. Infidelity was an arcane concept. That affair with Sonia was over last year and forgotten as far as he was concerned. Sure, I had a right to be pissed off. But it was just a blip in our long, steady marriage. Nevertheless, it reminded me how we had both changed over the last twenty years. We had grown a little bored with one another. Resting my elbows on the table, I told myself that compared to most marriages we were doing fine, emotionally, materially.
âThe coat. Thatâs very thoughtful of you, especially since you donât want me to go camping.â The irritation slipped out.
âIt isnât that I âdonât wantâ you to go. Rather the expedition strikes me as one more obligation in a life overcrowded with commitments.â He leaned back, stretching his muscular arms above his head. Dark hairs peeked from the sleeve of his white T-shirt. I could almost smell the familiar, arousing sweat and taste his salty skin.
We were on different planets. He didnât understand my tie to the West, to Kath. I didnât completely understand it either, but he couldnât even see it.
Lou continued, âI think youâll regret not working on the bibliography this week. Iâm worried about you being exhausted by the time you get to the conference. And frankly, I think you got yourself into this thing on a sentimental whim. Since the others have backed out, you should feel free to cancel, too.â
âNancy didnât back out. She has cancer surgery.â
âThe others.â He addressed the magazine, which reeked from one of those deadly perfume ads.
âKath is going.â
He was silent.
âAnd the fact is,
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