A Boilerplate Rendering Ch. 02

That should have at least placated her a little. At least I wouldn't be 'setting a bad example' anymore. But she just huffed irritably as I shuffled out of the room and headed for bed.

-

Karen tried several times during the next few weeks to talk to me about the Disney trip. Really, she was trying to talk me out of it. There wasn't any pretense, other purpose, or other type of discussion. At first she was contrite and apologetic about having used up all her vacation time, but as I continue to stonewall her efforts she became more and more irritable and bitter. In the final days before we left, she turned downright mean...throwing her affair in my face and making little comments under her breath about how at least SHE wouldn't have to go to Disney World to have a good time.

I ignored them. For some reason, for the first time since the start her affair and her comments didn't seem to bother me. It didn't take her long to realize this, and for reasons I still don't fully understand her immediate reaction was to be hurt. I can still remember the exact moment when she made a snappy comment about spending the whole week with Carl, and something about my nonresponse tipped her off to the fact that it no longer hurt me to hear about it. Suddenly she was deathly silent. I glanced over at her, and she was staring at me like a child whose father had just struck her and called her a whore.

Then, quick as that, she ran from the room.

I just shook my head and went back to my magazine. I wasn't about to try and make sense of her nonsense behaviors, anymore. I knew firsthand what a lost cause that was.

But for some reason the image stated my mind, and made it difficult to concentrate on the article I was reading. After a while, I set it down and did something I'm not especially proud of: I went to the cabinet above the stove...the one only I could reach...felt around way in the back, and pulled out my pack of cigarettes.

I had left the pack there two years before when I finally managed to quit smoking. It was an action fueled by the kind of logic that's familiar to any addict: it simply made me feel better to know that they were there.

But I'd never, not even with everything that it happened, felt the urge to reach for them until just now.

I was standing out on the back porch when she found me.

"When did you start that up again?" She asked.

I took a drag. "just now." I coughed. "It's not as good as I remember." But I pulled from it again anyway.

She didn't say anything for a little bit.

"Did you want something?" I asked.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I've been... Hell, I don't even know what I've been. But I've been one, and it needs to stop."

I shrugged.

"You know I finally figured out why you're doing it," she said. "All this time, I was so vain that I really thought it was me. I thought maybe you couldn't live without me, or that part of you might even be turned on by it all." She gave a bitter laugh. "Then, I was lashing out at you tonight, and I didn't get any reaction at all. It should have hurt you, what I said. It would kill me, if the roles were reversed. But you," she said in wonder, "you just let it roll right off of you. And that's when I realized that I didn't have a hold on you, anymore. That's when I realized that you were done with me."

I took another drag and then flicked the cigarette away.

"It was the girls, wasn't it? You did all of this because of the girls." I nodded. "And they've been so happy. You've done such an amazing job of shielding them," she sniffled. "You've been ruining your life, so that they could be children for just a little while longer."

I said nothing.

"You'll...take pictures, won't you? At Disney World?" She hugged herself. "They're never going to forget this trip. And it'll be such a wonderful memory-" suddenly she broke into sobs. "It's...the...only...way...I can...experience it."

"Of course I'll take pictures." But I didn't say anything more, and I didn't move to hold her. I just let her cry herself out.

She was somebody else's problem now.

"Thank you," she managed at last, as she got herself back together. "Thank you for the pictures."

And then she disappeared inside the house.