Эд Макбейн - Privileged Conversation

“In love, I see.”

“Yes.”

“So this has been going on since August.”

“July, actually.”

“Well... congratulations.”

“David, I want a divorce.”

“I see, a divorce,” he says.

“So Harry and I can get married and go live in Mexico.”

“Mexico.”

“Yes.”

“I see, Mexico. Land of opportunity.”

“He does , in fact, own land down there.”

“I see.”

“Why do you keep saying that? It’s infuriating. ”

“Well, I do see. You love Harry Daitch and you want a divorce so you can marry him and go live on his land in Mexico. Isn’t that it?”

“That’s about it, yes.”

“Well, that’s about all of it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not quite.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant, I see. Then I suppose you’ll want the divorce in a hurry, so you can rush down there and give birth to a Mexican citizen.”

“I would like the child to be born in my new marriage, yes. Not necessarily in Mexico.”

“Fine, I’ll call Peter...”

“I’ve already called him.”

“You called our attorney before you...?”

“We spoke only in general terms.”

“But about divorce, right?”

“Yes. I told him a friend of mine was thinking about divorce.”

“Must have fooled him completely.”

“I wasn’t trying to fool him.”

“Just called to ask how this friend of yours should proceed, right?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Which friend did you say wanted a divorce?”

“Well... Danielle, actually. She will, after all, be need—”

“Danielle, perfect. I’d like a drink. Would you care for a drink?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I think I’d like one.”

He goes to the bar, pours himself a very hefty vodka over ice, and then stands at the window, looking out at Manhattan, looking out at the heavy snow falling outside, covering everything with white, blanketing the rooftops and the streets and the world and the universe with pristine white. When he hears her coming into the room behind him, he asks, without turning to look at her, “What about the children?”

“What about them?”

“They stay with me, you realize.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You plan to take my daughters to Mexico?” he says, turning to face her, his hand tight around the glass in his hand. “To live with Harry Daitch?”

“Of course I do.”

“Over my dead body,” he says.

“Well, we’ll talk about it when you’re...”

“We just did. And you heard what I said.”

“David...”

“You heard what I fucking well said!”

“Goodnight, I’m going to sleep.”

“Go to hell, for all I care.”

Helen stares at him silently for just a moment. Then she merely sighs, and nods, and leaves the room.

He stands looking out at the falling snow. He drains his glass, carries it to the sink, rinses it, puts it on the drainboard. Down the hall, he can hear Helen thundering around the bedroom, preparing for bed. Take his kids to Mexico? Over his, fucking, dead, body!

He remembers that the tape is still in the video player.

He snaps on the television set, picks up the remote control unit, hits the PLAY button and then the RW button and sits down to watch as the tape rewinds. As it flickers in reverse, as the actors walk backward out of a room, or move out of each other’s arms instead of into them, David keeps watching the flickering images on the screen. The main titles appear, running backward to the very beginning of the film. The movie is almost ready to start all over again. He hits the EJECT button. The tape slides out of the video player with an audible click. He snaps off the set, carries the tape back to where its protective plastic case is sitting on the coffee table.

He stands looking at the blank screen.

He stands looking at it for a long while, as if trying to remember what the movie was all about.

Well, no matter, he thinks.

He finds a blanket and a pillow in the hall closet, stretches out on the couch, and tries to make himself comfortable. At last, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

He dreams that they are taking a long walk up the beach. He and Helen are holding hands. The girls are running up the beach ahead of them, circling back occasionally to hug them both around the legs, skipping off again, skirting like sandpipers the waves that gently rush the shore.

“Forever, right?” Annie says, turning to look back at him.

“Forever,” he says.

Annie leaps over someone’s abandoned sand castle, lands flat-footed and crouched on the other side of it.

“Boop!” she says.

And he awakens with a start.