Danielle Steel - Bittersweet

“If that was what you really wanted, then you should have stayed wherever the hell you were, Zimbabwe or Kenya or Kalamazoo, and not come back to marry me and have four children.”

“I could do both if you'd let me.”

“I never will. And you'd better get that loud and clear now. Because I'm not going to keep having this discussion with you. Your career, such as it was, with or without a goddamn Pulitzer, is over , India. Do you get that?”

“Maybe it's not my career that's over. Maybe something else is,” she said bravely. There were tears running down her face, and she was choking back sobs, but Doug wasn't budging a millimeter from his position. He didn't have to. He had a career and a life, and a family, and a wife to take care of his children. He had it all exactly the way he wanted. But what did she have?

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, looking even more furious. “I don't know who's putting these ideas into your head, India—if it's that fruitcake agent of yours, Raoul, or Gail with her whoring around, or even Jenny up here playing doctor—but whoever it is, you can tell them to forget it. As far as I'm concerned, our marriage rests on your holding up your end of the bargain. This is a deal-breaker for me.”

“Z am not your business, Doug. I am not a deal you're making with a client. I'm a human being, and I'm telling you that you're starving me emotionally, and I'm going to go crazy if I don't do more with my life than just drive Sam and Aimee and Jason to school every morning. There's more to life than just sitting on my ass in Westport, dying of boredom and waiting to serve you dinner.” She was sobbing as she said it, but he appeared to be entirely unmoved by it. All he felt was anger.

“You were never bored before. What the hell has happened to you?”

“I've grown up. The kids don't need me as much anymore. You have a life. And I need one too. I need more than I have right now. I'm lonely. I'm bored. I'm beginning to feel as though I'm wasting my life. I want to do something intelligent for a change, other than waiting to be of service. I need more than that. I put my own needs aside for fourteen years. Now I need just a little something more to keep me going. Is that so much to ask?”

“I don't understand what you're saying. This is crazy.”

“No, it isn't,” she said desperately. “But I will be if you don't start to hear me.”

“I hear you. I just don't like what I'm hearing. India, you're really barking up the wrong tree here.” It was rare for them to fight, but she was completely overwrought now, and he was livid. He was not going to give an inch on this subject, and she knew it. It was hopeless.

“Why won't you at least try to let me do a couple of assignments? Maybe it would work out. At least give it a chance.”

“Why? I already know what it would be like. I remember what it was like before we were married. You were always up a tree somewhere, using field telephones and dodging snipers. Is that really what you want to do again, for chrissake? Don't you think your children at least have a right to their mother? Just how selfish are you?”

“Maybe half as selfish as you are. What kind of mother are they going to have if I have no self-esteem and I'm pissed off all the time because I'm so goddamn bored and lonely?”

“If that's what you want, India, then find a new husband.”

“Do you really mean that?” She was looking at him in utter amazement, wondering if he would dare to go that far. But he might. He seemed to feel just that strongly about it. But her question, and the look in her eyes when she asked it, sobered him a little.

“I don't know. I might. I need to think about it. If this is really what you want, if you're willing to push it this far, then maybe we both need to rethink our marriage.”

“I can't believe you'd sacrifice us just because you're not willing to compromise, and think about my feelings for a change. I've done it your way for a hell of a long time. Maybe it's time to try mine now.”

“You're not even thinking of the children.”

“I am. And I have for a long time. But maybe now it's my turn.”

She had never said anything even remotely like that to him. And he certainly wasn't going to tell her now that he loved her. In fact, as he listened to her, he was almost sure he didn't. How could he? She was violating the deal she'd made with him, sacrificing their children, as far as he was concerned, and jeopardizing their marriage. As far as Doug was concerned, there wasn't much to love there.

And she was desperate to make one last stab at making him understand her. “Doug, what I did wasn't just a job. It was kind of an art form. It was a part of me. It's how I express myself, what's in my mind, my heart, my soul. It's why I never stopped carrying my camera. I need it to let a kind of light shine through me. What you see with your eyes, I see with my heart. I've given that up for a long time. Now I just want a little piece of it back again, like part of me I gave up, and just found I miss too much. Maybe I need that to be who I am. I don't know. I don't understand it myself, I just know that all of a sudden I realize it's important to me.” But she also realized it wasn't to him. That was the bottom line for her husband. He just couldn't understand what she was saying. He didn't get it. And he didn't want to.

“You should have thought of all that seventeen years ago when you married me. You had the choice then. I thought you made the right one, and so did you. If you don't feel that way now, then we have to face it.”

“All we need to face is that I need a little more in my life. Some air, some breathing room, a way to express myself and be me again … a way to feel that I matter in the world too, and not just you. And even more important than that, I need to know you love me.”

“I'm not going to love you, India, if you pull this kind of bullshit on me. And that's all it is, as far as I'm concerned. A load of bullshit. You're being a spoiled brat, and you're letting me and our kids down.”

“I'm sorry you can't hear what I'm saying,” she said, crying softly, and with that, he left the room, without saying a word to her, or reaching out to touch her or take her in his arms, or tell her he loved her. At that moment, he just didn't. And he was too angry to listen to her for another minute. Instead, he walked into their bedroom and packed his suitcase.

“What are you doing?” she asked when she saw what he was doing.

“I'm going back to Westport. And I'm not coming up next weekend. I don't need to drive for six hours in order to listen to you rant and rave about your ‘career.’ I think we need a breather from each other.” She didn't disagree with him, but she felt abandoned by him when she saw what he was doing.

“What makes you so sure that you know what's right for us, and me, and our kids? Why do you always get to make the rules?”

“Because that's the way it is, India. It's the way it's always been. And if you don't like it, you can leave me.”

“You make it sound very simple.” But it wasn't, and she knew that.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it's just that simple.” He stood up and looked at her, with his bag in his hand, and she couldn't believe how quickly their marriage was unraveling, after seventeen years and four children. Apparently, it had to be his way, or no way. The inequity of it was staggering, but he wasn't even willing to negotiate with her, or even bother to tell her he loved her. He didn't love her enough, in fact, to care what she felt or needed. It was all about him, and the “deal” they had made. That was the bottom line for him, and he was not willing to renegotiate the contract. “Say good-bye to the kids for me. I'll see you in two weeks. I hope you come to your senses by then.” He had dug in his heels, but even if she wanted to, India wasn't sure she could change now. In the past few weeks, she had become too aware of what was missing, and what she needed.