out.”
“But it didn’t work out,” I said. I knew, from the obituary, that there had not been a happy ending, at least not for poor Sheldon. I hadn’t thought at the time that the relationship had been sad for Mother, although obviously it must have been.
“I wanted it to,” she said. “I did. But I wanted an education more. I hated to do it, but I went to your great-grandfather and asked him to pull some strings. He made a couple of phone calls and managed to get me into Bryn Mawr. I worked hard and studied and wrote Sheldon a letter every day. I thought I was being wholesome and virtuous for my husband, who was, after all, serving our country in a lonely, faraway outpost.”
“That sounds very noble of you.”
”I do not need your sarcasm, young lady. I thought I was being noble. It turns out, as it so often does, that what I thought was nobility was actually foolishness. It turned out that Elmendorf, although a far-away outpost, was not as lonely as it appeared. Sheldon, the rat, wasn’t there three weeks before he started cheating on me. And it wasn’t three months before he filed for divorce. No letter, no explanation, no anything, just divorce papers that an Air Force lawyer drew up for him.” The bitterness in her voice had an edge to it that fifty years hadn’t dulled.
“You are kidding,” I said. I didn’t have a worse breakup story than that one, and I’d been dumped by more guys than Taylor Swift and Adele put together. I felt real sympathy for my mother for the first time in years. “I hope you made him pay for that.”
“I did, quite literally. I sent them back, unsigned, postage due. In a box with two cinder blocks.”
“Nicely done.”
“I wrote on them, with spray paint. One of them said ROT, and the other one was supposed to say IN HELL, but it got a little runny. Still. It got the point across to the little bum.”
“What did he do?”
“I got a letter back from him a week later. He tried to tell me, if you can believe it, that it was a mistake. He said he’d asked for the lawyer to put the paperwork together, but the lawyer went ahead and sent it to me accidentally. As if I would believe anything that foolish. He admitted he was having an affair, and he said that he wanted a divorce—he just hadn’t meant to tell me that abruptly and heartlessly.”
“Who was the girl?” I asked.
“Oh, I never bothered to find out. It didn’t seem worth it. The issue wasn’t even the girl, whoever she was. Sheldon thought that my family was keeping me away from him—which was totally irrational; there was no way I was ever going to Alaska with him or anyone else. And he thought that once he left the Air Force, my family would be running his life forever.”
“Well, when you put it that way, it makes sense.”
“If he had been able to get a decent education and a decent job, we could have made our own way and thumbed our noses at our families. It didn’t work out that way. I’ve always regretted that. It would have been nice to have that independence.”
I decided not to comment on this particular point, having gotten through undergrad at Temple through as a recipient of the Arthur S. Borden Endowed Scholarship. Independence is nice and all, but dependence has its good points, too.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I love your father; still do, despite everything. I am glad we had the chance to be together and have a family together. I just wonder, sometimes, how things would have been if I had stayed with Sheldon. He must have thought that, too, when he was drafting that wretched obituary. To think that we were both thinking that, at the same time, but neither of us acted on it. And now it’s too late.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, and I meant it.
“Is that the exit for the Parkway up there?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I don’t know why you didn’t take the Parkway the whole way.”
“Less traffic coming down 295, now that the construction
“But it didn’t work out,” I said. I knew, from the obituary, that there had not been a happy ending, at least not for poor Sheldon. I hadn’t thought at the time that the relationship had been sad for Mother, although obviously it must have been.
“I wanted it to,” she said. “I did. But I wanted an education more. I hated to do it, but I went to your great-grandfather and asked him to pull some strings. He made a couple of phone calls and managed to get me into Bryn Mawr. I worked hard and studied and wrote Sheldon a letter every day. I thought I was being wholesome and virtuous for my husband, who was, after all, serving our country in a lonely, faraway outpost.”
“That sounds very noble of you.”
”I do not need your sarcasm, young lady. I thought I was being noble. It turns out, as it so often does, that what I thought was nobility was actually foolishness. It turned out that Elmendorf, although a far-away outpost, was not as lonely as it appeared. Sheldon, the rat, wasn’t there three weeks before he started cheating on me. And it wasn’t three months before he filed for divorce. No letter, no explanation, no anything, just divorce papers that an Air Force lawyer drew up for him.” The bitterness in her voice had an edge to it that fifty years hadn’t dulled.
“You are kidding,” I said. I didn’t have a worse breakup story than that one, and I’d been dumped by more guys than Taylor Swift and Adele put together. I felt real sympathy for my mother for the first time in years. “I hope you made him pay for that.”
“I did, quite literally. I sent them back, unsigned, postage due. In a box with two cinder blocks.”
“Nicely done.”
“I wrote on them, with spray paint. One of them said ROT, and the other one was supposed to say IN HELL, but it got a little runny. Still. It got the point across to the little bum.”
“What did he do?”
“I got a letter back from him a week later. He tried to tell me, if you can believe it, that it was a mistake. He said he’d asked for the lawyer to put the paperwork together, but the lawyer went ahead and sent it to me accidentally. As if I would believe anything that foolish. He admitted he was having an affair, and he said that he wanted a divorce—he just hadn’t meant to tell me that abruptly and heartlessly.”
“Who was the girl?” I asked.
“Oh, I never bothered to find out. It didn’t seem worth it. The issue wasn’t even the girl, whoever she was. Sheldon thought that my family was keeping me away from him—which was totally irrational; there was no way I was ever going to Alaska with him or anyone else. And he thought that once he left the Air Force, my family would be running his life forever.”
“Well, when you put it that way, it makes sense.”
“If he had been able to get a decent education and a decent job, we could have made our own way and thumbed our noses at our families. It didn’t work out that way. I’ve always regretted that. It would have been nice to have that independence.”
I decided not to comment on this particular point, having gotten through undergrad at Temple through as a recipient of the Arthur S. Borden Endowed Scholarship. Independence is nice and all, but dependence has its good points, too.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I love your father; still do, despite everything. I am glad we had the chance to be together and have a family together. I just wonder, sometimes, how things would have been if I had stayed with Sheldon. He must have thought that, too, when he was drafting that wretched obituary. To think that we were both thinking that, at the same time, but neither of us acted on it. And now it’s too late.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, and I meant it.
“Is that the exit for the Parkway up there?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I don’t know why you didn’t take the Parkway the whole way.”
“Less traffic coming down 295, now that the construction
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