Divorce Is in the Air Read Free Page A

why I married you, so you’ll take care of me when I’m old.”
    I started nonchalantly to undress, going for a purely functional nudity—the air from the radiator was suffocating. I said nothing; when I sucked in my belly, my windpipe was cut off and I started to cough.
    “You’re sucking it in. You don’t have a blank check with me, you know. You can forget about me cleaning up your shit if you go and turn into a pig. Spanish women put up with anything: fat guys; bald, hairy, smelly ones….Well, I’m not Spanish.”
    “Leave me alone, Freckles. Just try finding someone else you can dump that kid of yours on.”
    She jumped up from the bed, evidence that I hadn’t managed to varnish my words with a joking veneer (their doubting undertone probably made things worse). Though I don’t think she entirely understood the Catalan words I used, I know she grasped their general drift. Her eyes darkened, two open holes in pink flesh, and began to dart around the room, scanning the furniture for a hiding place or weapon. She spewed a stream of words, but what she really wanted was to find a way out.
    I tried to yell at her to stop, but she charged toward the exit with her hands over her ears, a gesture I’ve always found unbearably childish. In two long strides I was between her and the door. She stopped short of touching me and took two steps backward, her calves tensed. She looked at me, and now there was no hint of circumspection in her eyes; whatever fire had ignited in her wasn’t going to be quenched by talking. It would last all night, and I could forget about touching her now. By some marvel of asymmetry, my head cooled just as Helen was passing the point of no return, a fury mounting in her that couldn’t be stamped out even by apologizing (and I wasn’t about to do that anyway—the final embers of my anger were still smoldering). Helen would only be satisfied once she’d subjected me to a good dose of pain.
    “Move.”
    “You can’t leave now….”
    “Move.”
    “I’m not going to let you out.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you’re going to ruin everything, you’re going to spoil our whole night. Just do me a favor and look at me, listen to me!”
    “I don’t want anything to do with you. Let me out or I’ll scream. Move!”
    “And what do you think you’re going to do? Hide out in your parents’ room?”
    “I’ll leave tomorrow. I can change the plane ticket with Daddy.”
    “You’re not serious, you’re talking nonsense. Try to think straight. Don’t be an idiot. You can’t walk out that door.”
    “Why are you naked, anyway?”
    No matter how intense the argument got, there was always a little light of sanity alive, and now it regained control and the level of rage began to fall. The look in her eyes was, shall we say, tender; she doubled over with laughter. I joined in, and we were on our way out of the mess, taking our first steps through the valley, hand in hand like young lovers.
    “You were going to chase me like a naked, stupid balloon all the way down the hall! You wouldn’t get me, I’d never let a dumb bag of nuts catch me.”
    Her tone was affectionate enough. Now I only had to absorb the venom; it was nothing I couldn’t bear if I kept my cool. Then we could move on, trusting in the harness of humor. Once we’d shared a smile we would be safe. I could remind her how she always confused
cacahuetes
with
nueces
; I could kiss her, squeeze one of her tits, I had the technique down cold. It was just that combination of “bag” and “balloon,” the clear, lying impertinence of her slapdash attack…I felt my tantrum rearing back up.
    “You’ve done it again, Helen. Once again, you are incomprehensible. I can feel the rotten energy you give off when you sink into vulgarity.”
    Even though I was down to my boxers, fine drops of sweat began to break out on my forehead. I was euphoric. Helen was a miracle of human strength: in just a few months she’d regained the desire