That’s not it. This is it. There wasn’t a wrench. There is a Mike.
My wife fell in love with him and told me this at breakfast, not dinner. She said she didn’t want to tell me at night because she wanted to give me plenty of time to adjust to it before I went to bed and also time for her to get her things out of the apartment and move in with a friend. We have no child. We tried for a while but couldn’t. Then I had a corrective operation and we could have a child, but she said the marriage wasn’t as good as it used to be and she wanted to be sure it was a very good marriage before we had a child. That was three years ago. She’s had several affairs since then. She told me about them while she was having them. I didn’t like her having them but put up with it because I didn’t want her to leave me. I don’t know why I mentioned anything about a gift. Maybe because her birthday’s in two weeks and I’ve been thinking recently about what to get her. A bracelet, I thought. But that’s out. This morning she said she realizes this is the third or fourth serious affair she’s had in three years. She’s had one or two others but they were quick and not so serious. She doesn’t want to continue having affairs while she’s married or at least still living with me. It isn’t fair to me, she said. She also said I shouldn’t put up with it and shouldn’t have in the past. Not that if I had told her to stop she would have, she said. But I should tell her to get the hell out of the house and should have two to three years ago. Since I won’t, she’ll have to leave me. That means divorce, she said. The marriage isn’t working out. What’s she talking about? she said. The marriage is so bad that she doesn’t think it’ll ever work out — it never will, that’s all, never. And because she wants to have children, maybe two, maybe three, but with someone she’s very much in love with, she’ll have to end our marriage and eventually get married to someone else. Maybe it’ll be with Mike but she doubts it. He’s married, but about to separate from his wife, and has indicated he never wants to marry again. He also has two children from a previous marriage and has expressed no interest in having more. Anyway, she said, it’s fairer if I stay here and she goes, since she’s the one breaking up the marriage. Of course, if I want to leave, she said, then she’ll be more than happy to stay, since it’s a great apartment and one she can afford and she’ll never be able to get anything like it at twice the rent. “If you don’t mind,” I said, “I think I’d like to keep the apartment. Losing you and also having to find a new place might be a little too much for me.” “I don’t mind,” she said, “why should I mind? I already said the apartment’s yours if you want. So, do you mind if I start to pack up now to go?” “No, go right ahead.
I’d love for you to stay forever, naturally, but what could I do to stop you from going? Nothing, I guess, right?” “Right.” She went to the bedroom. I brought the dishes into the kitchen, washed them, sat down at the small table there and looked at the river. She came into the living room an hour later with two suitcases and a duffel bag. “This ought to do it for now,” she said. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll arrange with a friend to come by for the rest of my stuff some other time.” “Sure,” I said. “You moving in with this Mike?” “No, I told you, he’s married, still living with his wife. I’ll be staying with Elena for now. If you want to reach me for anything, you can get me there or at work. You have her number?” “I can look it up.” “But you won’t call me at either place for very personal reasons, will you? Such as saying how much you miss me or things like that and you want me back? Because I’ve definitely made up my mind, Jules. The marriage is finished.” “I understand that. I mean, I don’t understand why it’s so definitely finished, but I do understand that you definitely feel it is. But I can’t make just one more pitch? There’s nothing I can do or say or promise to help you change your mind?” “Nothing.” “Then goodbye,” I said. “I’ll miss you terribly. I love you tremendously. I’ll be as sad as any man can be over a thing like this for I don’t know how long. But that’s my problem, not yours, I guess, and eventually I’ll work it out.” “I’m glad you’re taking it like this. Not that you’ll be sad — I don’t want you to be like that — but at least that you see the situation for what it is and that in the long run you’ll be able to handle it. Because it’ll make it much easier — it already is — for both of us. You’ll see. You’ll get over me before you know it.” “Not on your life,” I said. “Yes you will.” “I’m telling you. Never.” “No, I know you will. Goodbye.” She opened the door, put the suitcases right outside it, said “I’ll be back for these in a minute,” and carried the duffel bag downstairs. “I’ll help you with the suitcases,” I yelled down the stairs. “No need to.” she said. “It’d actually be better if you closed the door so we won’t have to say goodbye again.” I shut the door.