I, the Divine Read Free Page A

scoop neck, a tad risqué, but I figured one can never go wrong with black, and this dress in particular highlighted my best feature, my legs.
    “I wish I had the nerve to wear something like that,” Charlene said. She wore a long pink gown with white chenille daisies. She scrunched whatever was left of her eyebrows, lifted her dress, showing a purulent cyst on her upper right thigh. “Look, I can’t wear anything above the knee until this is gone.”
    Joe watched the exchange, a puzzled look on his face. I saw him shudder and put his right hand in his pocket. He looked skinnier.

    The reception was at a downtown hotel. As usual, the first thing I noticed was how badly most women wore evening dresses. There are a few places on the East Coast, and maybe Los Angeles, where women understand evening gowns. The rest of the country still has far to go. That night most of the women wore expensive prom dresses in all kinds of pastels. The second thing I noticed was that, other than the help, there was not one nonwhite person in the room. These were the company executives and their clients. I began to see why Joe would want me there. I had always been his defense against American gentiles, the country club set.
    David stood in the center of the room surrounded by four people, holding their attention. He was unlike any of the men who usually caught my eye. He was a little over six feet, dark blond hair graying at the temples, not in very good shape, big-boned, with a slight belly. He had high cheekbones, cherubic and baby-faced, and the light turned his cheeks a Bonnard pink. He listened intently to one of the men in the group, while the others looked at him, but his full attention was on the speaker. A man who listened was an anomaly in my life.
    He glanced up at me and hesitated. At first, I did not make much of it. In that room, I looked different from all the other women. I was also standing next to Joe, the guest of honor. David kept looking back at me, though. At the first break in conversation, he excused himself and walked over to Joe and Charlene. They exchanged pleasantries, and he was introduced to me as David Troubridge, senior vice-president in charge of the Western region. He was formal until he found out I was Joe’s ex.
    “It’s wonderful you two are still friends,” he said. “I wish I could say the same about my ex.” That should have been my first warning, but I never listen to warnings, mine or anybody else’s.
    “Actually Sarah is close to both her exes,” Joe said. “She’s good that way. No acrimony.”
    “You have an accent.” David had his full attention on me. “Are you Israeli?”
    Joe chuckled.
    “He wishes I were,” I laughed, pointing at Joe. “Nour el-Din is a Lebanese name. I am originally from Lebanon.”
    Joe had to chime in. “Technically, the name is Druze, so it could be an Israeli one . . .”
    “An Arab woman marrying a Jewish man,” David interrupted, ignoring Joe. “What did your family think?”
    “They didn’t approve.”
    “I can imagine. Do you work for the company?”
    “No,” Joe said, trying to include himself one more time, “but she could. She’s a good engineer.” He stepped closer to me.
    “Was,” I said. “Was an engineer, but not a good one.” I took a sip from my drink, but kept my eyes locked on David’s.
    “Why did you give it up?”
    “I found out I hated it. I would call myself an academic engineer. I was good at solving problems on paper, but hadn’t a clue when it came to the real world. Anyway, I could not function at all in such a structured environment.”
    “And what do you do now?”
    “Professional divorcée,” I said, thinking it a clever reply. His face registered confusion, followed by disappointment, which he tried quickly to mask. I lost him. He looked at Joe, wished him well in his new job, said his very-nice-to-meet-yous to Charlene and me, and withdrew.

    I was sitting in the airport lounge waiting to board when I felt