I, the Divine Read Free

1992.
    My ex-husband Joe had called and asked if I would be willing to fly and attend a party in his honor. His company had just promoted and relocated him to Dallas. Both he and his wife wanted me to join them in celebration, to see their new house and so forth. Joe was in constant touch with my brother, Ramzi, in whom I confided, so they knew I was feeling blue.
    I started to make tea, but decided against it. I took a walk to Duboce Park, a short distance from my flat. Every weekday, beginning at four in the afternoon, the park transformed into canine heaven. Barking, frolicking dogs of every breed, color, and shape raced around the grass. Owners stood in groups chatting while their pets played, sniffed, chased, and did group somersaults. I had been coming to the park every day for the last two weeks. I was dogless, but I came prepared.
    The instant Sally, a collie, saw me, she bounded over, jumped with joy as I reached into my coat pocket for her biscuit. I tossed it and she caught it in midair. Mindy, a tan pug, began licking my jeans. In less than a minute, I had ten dogs to play with.
    “When are you getting one?” Annette, Sally’s owner, asked me. She towered over me, looking taller from my new position, flat on the ground with dogs all over me. “Get off there. You’ll ruin your coat.”
    “It’s cheap,” I joked. The dogs disbursed in different directions, forgetting me as I stood up. Annette was popular with the other dog owners; a couple of women moseyed over. “Besides, you know I can’t get a dog. I can barely take care of myself. I don’t even have a job right now. Anyway, my cats would hate me.”
    “A dog does wonders.”
    In a couple of minutes, a thin, lanky woman showed up, a sprightly spring in her step. I recognized the leashed dog, but it took me a moment to realize it was Sandra. She released her cocker when she reached us.
    “Jesus,” Annette exclaimed. “You’re looking wonderful.”
    “I’m dating.” Sandra beamed. She looked as if only her heavy coat kept her grounded.
    “That really works,” Annette laughed.
    “We just had sex,” Sandra giggled. “I left him sleeping on the bed.” She looked ten years younger than she had the day before. Her appeased lust had softened her face, smoothed her miniscule wrinkles.
    After polite time had passed, I excused myself and walked the six blocks back home, alone.
    I locked myself in, clicked on the teakettle, and sat on the sofa in the big mess otherwise known as my living room. I picked up the phone and dialed Joe and Charlene.
    “I would love to come,” I said. “It’ll be good to see you both.”
    “I’m so happy you’re coming,” Charlene cooed. “You might even find Mr. Right. You should think about moving to Dallas. San Francisco is so depressing and morbid.”
    I was actually thinking of Joe. I would go to Dallas to show my support and try to give him the approval he always sought from me.
    I overbrewed my tea; drank it slightly bitter.
    I called my hairdresser and made an appointment to cut and dye my hair.

    I arrived in Dallas two days before the party and planned on leaving the day after. I hated the city as much as I thought I would. All anyone could talk about were the Cowboys and their chances in the playoffs. Charlene was happy. Joe was not, or so it seemed to me, in spite of the fact that he had finally gotten exactly what he thought he wanted from a wife: she gave him an adorable boy, she did everything in their home including laundry, and most important, she did not embarrass him.
    Whenever I was alone with Joe during the two days I was there, Charlene would send her son into the room with us. The first time I carried him, Charlene made sure to mention how surprised she was that I had motherly instincts. She probably used the pronoun we more in one day than I have in my whole life. I did not blame her. Most plain women stake their claims clumsily.

    I decided on a short, fitted black Chanel for the reception,