I laugh. "That's what I said to her. Do you really mean that?"
She's quiet for a second. Finally, she smiles at me and says
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sincerely, "You've been a lot of fun to be around in the last few weeks."
"Thanks. The feeling is mutual," I say.
She takes my hand and says, "But... I'm sorry, Al. I'm still worried about coming home."
"Why? We're getting along a lot better now," I say, "What's the problem?"
"Look, we've had some good times for a change. And that's fine. I've really needed this time with you," she says. "But if we go back to living together, you know what's going to happen don't you? Everything will be fine for about two days. But a week from now we'll be having the same arguments. And a month later, or six months, or a year from now... well, you know what I mean."
I sigh. "Julie, was it that bad living with me?"
"Al, it wasn't bad ," she says. "It was just... I don't know. You weren't paying any attention to me."
"But I was having all kinds of problems in my job. I was really in over my head for awhile. What did you expect from me?"
"More than what I was getting," Julie says. "You know, when I was growing up, my father always came home from work at the same time. The whole family always ate together. He spent the evenings at home. With you, I never know what's going on."
"You can't compare me to your father," I say. "He's a den- tist. After the last tooth of the day is filled, he can lock up and go home. My business isn't like that."
"Alex, the problem is you are not like that," she says. "Other people go to work and come home at regular times."
"Yes, you're partially right. I am not like other people," I admit. "When I get involved in something, I really get involved. And maybe that has to do with the way 7 was brought up. Look at my family-we hardly ever ate together. Somebody always had to be minding the store. It was my father's rule: the business was what fed us, so it came first. We all understood that and we all worked together."
"So what does that prove except our families were differ- ent?" she asks. "I'm telling you about something that bothered me so much and for so long that I wasn't even sure if I loved you anymore."
"So what makes you sure you love me now?"
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"Do you want another fight?" she asks.
I look the other way.
"No, I don't want to fight," I tell her.
I hear her sigh. Then she says, "You see? Nothing has changed... has it."
Neither of us says a word for quite awhile. Julie gets up and walks over to the river. It looks for a second as if she might run away. She doesn't. She comes back again and sits down on the bench.
She says to me, "When I was eighteen, I had everything planned-college, a teaching degree, marriage, a house, chil- dren. In that order. All the decisions were made. I knew what china pattern I wanted. I knew the names I wanted for the kids. I knew what the house should look like and what color the rug should be. Everything was certain. And it was so important that I have it all. But now... I have it all, only it's different somehow. None of it seems to matter."
"Julie, why does your life have to conform to this... this perfect image you have in your head?" I ask her. "Do you even know why you want the things you do?"
"Because that's how I grew up," she says. "And what about you? Why do you have to have this big career? Why do you feel compelled to work twenty-four hours a day?"
Silence.
Then she says, "I'm sorry. I'm just very confused."
"No, that's okay," I say. "It was a good question. I have no idea why I wouldn't be satisfied being a grocer, or a nine-to-five office worker."
"Al, why don't we just try to forget all this," she suggests.
"No, I don't think so," I tell her. "I think we should do the opposite. We ought to start asking a few more questions."
Julie gives me a skeptical look and asks, "Like what?"
"Like what is our marriage supposed to do for us?" I ask her. "My idea of the goal of a marriage is not living in a perfect house where everything happens according to a clock. Is that the goal for you?"
"All I'm asking for is a little dependability from my hus- band," she says. "And what's all this about a goal? When you're married, you're just married. There is no goal."
"Then why be married?" I ask.
"You get married because of commitment... because of
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love... because of all the reasons everybody else does," she says. "Alex, you're asking a lot of dumb questions."
"Whether they're dumb or smart, I'm asking them because we've been living together for fifteen years and we have no clear understanding of what our marriage is supposed to do... or become... or anything!" I sputter. "We're just coasting along, doing 'what everyone else does.' And it turns out the two of us have some very different assumptions of what our lives are sup- posed to be like."
"My parents have been married for thirty-seven years," she says, "and they never asked any questions. Nobody ever asks 'What is the goal of a marriage?' People just get married because they're in love."
"Oh. Well, that explains everything, doesn't it," I say.
"Al, please don't ask these questions," she says. "They don't have any answers. And if we keep talking this way, we're going to ruin everything. If this is your way of saying you're having second thoughts about us-"
"Julie, I'm not having second thoughts about you. But you're the one who can't figure out what's wrong with us. Maybe if you tried to think about this logically instead of simply comparing us to the characters in a romance novel-"
"I do not read romance novels," she says.
"Then where did you get your ideas about how a marriage is supposed to be?" I ask her.
She says nothing.
"All I'm saying is we ought to throw away for the moment all the pre-conceptions we have about our marriage, and just take a look at how we are right now," I tell her. "Then we ought to figure out what we want to have happen and go in that direc- tion."
But Julie doesn't seem to be listening. She stands up.
"I think it's time we walked back," she says.
On the way back to the Barnett house, we're as silent as two icebergs in January, the two of us drifting together. I look at one side of the street; Julie looks at the opposite. When we walk through the door, Mrs. Barnett invites me to stay for dinner, but I say I've got to be going. I say goodbye to the kids, give Julie a wave and leave.
I'm getting into the Mazda when I hear her come running after me.
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"Will I see you again on Saturday?" she asks. I smile a little "Yeah, sure. Sounds good." She says, "I'm sorry about what happened." "I guess we'll just have to keep trying until we get it right." We both start smiling. Then we do some of that nice stuff that makes an argument almost worth the agony.
I get home just as the sun is starting to set. The sky is rosy pink. As I'm unlocking the kitchen door, I hear the phone ring- ing inside. I rush in to grab it.
"Good morning," says Jonah.
"Morning?" Outside the window, the sun is almost below the horizon. I laugh. "I'm watching the sun set. Where are you calling from?"
"Singapore," he says.
"Oh."
"By the way, from my hotel I'm watching the sun r ise ," Jonah says. "Alex, I wouldn't have called you at home, but I'm not going to be able to talk to you again for a few weeks."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's a long story and I can't go into it now," he says. "But I'm sure we'll have a chance to discuss it some time."