Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

As she said the word divorce , I thought about the conversation Vivian and I had at lunch and I must have flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said quickly. “I really am doing my best not to talk about David. I don’t know why his name seems to enter every conversation.”

“It’s not that,” I said. I clutched my glass of iced tea with both hands. “Vivian left me.”

Emily mouth widened into an O . “Oh my God,” she finally breathed. “That’s awful. I’m not sure what else to say.”

“There’s not much you can say.”

“Are you sure you’re not just taking some time apart? Like separation?”

“I don’t think so. At lunch yesterday, she said we were getting divorced. And she wants us to sit down and talk to London tomorrow night.”

“What happened? I mean, does it bother you if I ask? You don’t have to answer, obviously.”

“She’s in love with her boss, Walter Spannerman. And she’s now living in Atlanta.”

“Oh, boy.”

Now, there was an understatement. “Yeah.”

“How are you doing?”

“Okay sometimes, not so well at other times.”

She nodded, her expression soft. “I understand exactly what you mean. When did all this happen? And again, you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

I thought about it before taking a sip of my tea. Though I’d talked endlessly with Marge and Liz, I still felt the need to process it verbally. I’m not sure why, other than that people cope in different ways, and for me, I had to talk. Reprise. Question. Wonder. Whine. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. My sister had been more than patient with me since Vivian had left, but I felt bad that I’d needed her ear to the extent I had. Same with Liz. And yet, I still felt compelled to process; I felt an overwhelming desire to go through all of it once more.

“I’d like to tell you about it, but I’m not sure even where to start,” I said. I stared out the window. Emily leaned across the table.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked.

“No plans,” I said.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Or at least get out of here?”

“A walk sounds great.”

I followed Emily, even though I wasn’t sure where she was going, other than it was in the general direction of her place. In time, she turned onto a private drive that led to a private country club, with a membership fee that was a bit out of my league. She pulled into a shady spot not far from the practice putting green, and I parked beside her.

“This okay?”

“A golf course?”

“It’s a gorgeous walk. I’m out here three or four times a week. Usually in the mornings.”

“I take it you’re a member.”

“David loved to golf,” she said.

We stepped onto the cart path and began making our way down one of the lush green fairways. As I took in the surroundings, I realized Emily had been right. The fairways and greens were immaculate and generously lined with dogwoods, magnolias, and live oaks. There were neatly trimmed azalea bushes and ponds that sparkled beneath blue skies; a steady breeze kept the temperature tolerable.

“What happened?” she asked, and over the course of the nine or ten holes we traversed, I told her everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have; maybe I should have been more reticent, but once the flow of words started, I seemed unable to stop. I talked and talked, answering Emily’s questions whenever they came up. I told her about our marriage and the early years with London, I told her how important it had been to me to make Vivian happy, my never-ending desire to please her. I spoke about the last year, and went into detail describing what an emotional basket case I’d been since Vivian had walked out the door. As I spoke, I was alternately confused and sad, enraged and frustrated, but mainly, I was still at a loss. I felt like someone who thought he’d known the rules of the game he’d been playing, only to learn that the wrong rules had been placed in the box.

“I appreciate you listening,” I said as I came to the end of my sorry tale.

“I was glad to,” she said. “I’ve been through it, too. And I get it. Believe me. The year that David moved out was the hardest year of my life,” she said. “And yes, the first couple of months were excruciating. All day, every day, I wondered whether I’d done the right thing by telling him to go. And after that, I’m not saying that I was Mary Poppins. It took probably another four or five months before I began to feel a little bit like my old self again some of the time. But by then, I also kind of knew that Bodhi and I were going to make it.”

“How are you now?”

“Better,” she said. She cracked a wry smile. “Well, most of the time. It’s strange, but the more time passes, the less I can remember the bad things while the good memories still linger. Before Bodhi, we used to lie in bed on Sunday mornings and have coffee and read the paper. We didn’t even talk that much, but I still recall how comfortable those mornings felt. And like I said, David was always a good father. It would be so much easier if I forgot the good stuff instead.”

“It sounds like it was really hard.”

“It can be awful. Arguing about money is often the worst part. When money’s involved, it can get vicious.”

“Was it like that for you?”

“No, thank God. David is more than fair with alimony and child support, and we couldn’t make it if he weren’t. It doesn’t hurt that his family is as rich as Midas and he earns a lot of money, but I also think he felt guilty. It’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s just not a particularly good husband, unless you don’t mind constant philandering.”

“I can see how that might be a problem for some.”

I felt her eyes drift toward me. “She might come back, you know. Sometimes they do.”

I reflected on Friday’s lunch, and the way she’d acted when I handed off the vase. I remembered what Liz had told me.

“I don’t think so.”

“Even if she realizes she made a mistake?”

“I still don’t know that she’d want to come back. I get the sense that she’s been unhappy with me for a long time. I tried to be the best husband and father I could be and it never seemed to be enough.”

“You sound like you’re not sure whether I’ll believe you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she left me.”

“That was her decision. And it says less about you than it does about her.”

“I still feel like a failure.”

“I can understand that. I felt the same way. I think most people do.”

“I’m not sure Vivian does. She doesn’t seem to care at all.”

“She cares,” Emily said. “And she’s hurting, too. Walking away from a marriage isn’t easy for anyone. But she’s also in love with someone new, and that’s a big distraction. She isn’t thinking about the two of you as much as you are. Which means she’s not hurting as frequently as you are.”

“I think I need a distraction.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what you need. Maybe some midtwenties, cheerleader type, right? Or an aerobics teacher? Or maybe a dancer.” When I raised an eyebrow, she shrugged and went on. “Those were David’s preferences. Of course, if push came to shove, he’d sleep with anyone.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not. He’s not my problem anymore,” she said. “He’s dating someone back in Sydney. He told me he’s actually thinking about marriage.”

“Already?”

“It’s his life,” she shrugged. “If he asked me, I’d tell him that he should probably give it more time, but he didn’t ask so I didn’t offer. And besides, we’re divorced. He can do what he wants.”