“Yes we did.”
“How many times? Once? On your first day? That’s hardly the sign of a deep and meaningful connection between us.”
“It was more flexible, to drive separately. It’s not like we couldn’t afford the gas. And you like to eat at your desk.”
“Only because I have no one else to eat with! No one who’s not trying to stab me in the back, or get in my pants, anyway. Of course I wanted to eat with my husband. And I didn’t want things to be flexible.” She spat the word back at me. “I wanted them to be better. I wanted us to be closer. I wanted us to carve out a few minutes a day to talk about what’s important to me, since I don’t get to do anything I care about anymore.”
The waitress attempted another approach, saving me from having to respond, but Carolyn waved her away.
“We have the potential, Marc. We complement each other. Where you’re strong, I’m weak. Where you’re weak, I’m strong. But for us to work, we have to be close. We have to mesh with each other. Do you understand?”
I nodded, stunned by the ferocity in her voice.
“We have to be like this.” She held out her hands and laced her fingers together. “See? That’s strong. But if we pull away, this is what happens.” She pulled her hands apart and held them up, palms vertical, fingers stiff and separate. “We’re left as two isolated, spikey individuals. And I don’t want that.”
“I don’t want it, either.” I wished the waitress would come back with the wine list, because I clearly had some catching up to do.
“Good. I’m glad. But it’ll take more than words, Marc. We’ll have to work at it. Hard. Both of us. And I need to know, are you up for that?”
“I am. Absolutely. I love you, Carolyn. You know I do.”
“I love you, too. And to prove I’m in this for the long haul, I’ve brought you something.”
She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a small parcel.
“Go ahead.” She passed it to me. “See if you like it.”
The package contained a key ring—size Swiss Army knife. Carolyn knew I loved them. The intricacy. The craftsmanship. But this one was extra special. Because instead of being finished in the signature red, both sides were shaded with tiny, beautiful Benday dots.
“I don’t think it’s copied from an actual painting or anything. But it looks Lichtensteiny to me. And I wanted to apologize for being rude about your picture. It’s never going to be my cup of tea, but I understand how important it is to you, and I respect that. No more nasty comments. I promise.”
“This is amazing. Thanks, sweetheart. It’s perfect. I love it. I just wish I had something for you in return.”
“Aren’t you going to put it on your key ring? See how it feels in your pocket?”
“Sure.” I pulled out my keys and pried open the tight spirals of the main ring, ready to slide the knife’s smaller one into place. It was tricky, but the gap was almost wide enough when I became aware of Carolyn’s face. She was staring at me.
“What? Am I doing it wrong?”
“No, you’re doing fine. But what’s that? I haven’t seen it before.”
I looked down at the key ring and took a quick inventory. House keys—front door, back door, windows, filing cabinet. One key from AmeriTel—for a drawer in the desk I’d been using, which I could now throw away. My Jaguar’s key, with its shank folded neatly back. And the memory stick I’d decided not to use, earlier.
“Is that why you bought me the knife? To set me up?”
“Is that the stick with the AmeriTel data on it?”
“No.”
I wasn’t lying. Not technically. Because it wasn’t the stick. There were two.
“The stick’s at the house, then?”
Her use of the words at the house, not at home was starting to ring warning bells.
“Do we have to talk about this again? I thought we were changing.”
“We are. You’re right, Marc. Let’s not get sidetracked. I’ve agreed to change, to be more understanding about your interests. But what about you? What are you going to change?”
“I could be more supportive of your interests, I guess? Like theater. I used to love watching your shows.”
“You never came to any.”
“I did. And to the parties. Remember after Much Ado, at college? That was the first time we—”
“It was Merchant of Venice. Much Ado was the one your parents came to.”
“Oh. Yeah. Still, it was fun.”
“They hated me. They couldn’t have made it any clearer. And anyway, the acting ship sailed long ago. I’ve been out of the game way too long.”
“Not necessarily.”
“I have. Trust me. OK, what else?”
“I don’t know. There’s nothing obvious, or I’d have changed it already. But I love you, Carolyn. I’m happy to change anything you want me to.”
“Well, you could develop a little self-awareness, for a start.”
“Self-awareness? About what? Could you be more specific?”
“This should really be coming from you, Marc. It doesn’t work if I have to direct you. But honestly? I think this is all part of a larger problem. Your lack of openness.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you’re holding things back from me. Bottling them up. Not sharing. Keeping secrets, even. I guess it’s hard, given how much time you spend alone. Not having many friends probably doesn’t help. I do try to make allowances, but even so …”
“Wait a minute. I have friends!”
“Whatever. But the point is, the way things are, it makes me wonder if I can really trust you.”
“Of course you can trust me. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you the truth.”
She toyed with her wineglass for a moment, then nodded.
“OK, then, Marc. I’m sorry to come back around to this, but I think you’re lying to me about the memory stick. I think that one right there—that’s the one you stole from AmeriTel. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Carolyn, I’ve got lots of memory sticks. Dozens. You need to stop jumping to conclusions. And why are you all worked up about this? Just let it go. I don’t work at AmeriTel anymore.”
“But I do. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Right. Because the subject’s closed.”
“Give it to me, damn you!” Carolyn launched herself at me from across the table, sending silverware, serviettes, and her half-full wineglass flying in all directions.
A wave of embarrassed silence washed over the restaurant and the two of us were left tugging at the key ring like brats in a schoolyard while everyone else sat and stared.
“Let me have it!” Carolyn’s face was pale, like she was deathly sick. “Please, Marc. You don’t know how important this is to me.”
“You don’t know how important it is to me. You wouldn’t listen, before. So this is what it comes down to. You told me our marriage and your job were equally important. You told me there wasn’t a choice to make. Well, I’m telling you there is. And you have to make it. Right here. Right now.”
Our eyes were locked. Our fingers were locked. Every other person in the place was staring in our direction. The seconds ticked by. Neither of us gave ground. Murmured comments began to ripple from nearby tables. Carolyn tugged harder, and without warning a kind of howl spilled from her lips, more animal than human. Then she let go. Grabbed her purse. And ran out of the restaurant.
THE JOURNEY HOME PASSED in a blur. It was like I’d been driving on autopilot, my conscious brain kicking in only when I reached my own street and a woman emerged without warning from the raised stretch of woodland that borders the road, waving her arms wildly and nearly finding herself under my wheels. She claimed to want directions to a pharmacy, and was very unhappy when I told her there were no stores of any kind within five miles. She seemed to have trouble grasping my words, making me think the kind of pharmaceuticals she was looking for wouldn’t be available over the counter anyway. And as soon as I had disengaged myself from her and started to move again, I was almost hit by two guys in a Mercedes who had picked my driveway—the only break in the tree line for a couple of hundred yards—to make a three-point turn.