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It
wasn
’
t
so
much
that
I
wanted
to
thoroughly
explore
the
countries
themselves
;
this
has
been
done
.
It
was
more
that
I
wanted
to
thoroughly
explore
one
aspect
of
myself
set
against
the
backdrop
of
each
country
,
in
a
place
that
has
traditionally
done
that
one
thing
very
well
.
I
wanted
to
explore
the
art
of
pleasure
in
Italy
,
the
art
of
devotion
in
India
and
,
in
Indonesia
,
the
art
of
balancing
the
two
.
It
was
only
later
,
after
admitting
this
dream
,
that
I
noticed
the
happy
coincidence
that
all
these
countries
begin
with
the
letter
I
.
A
fairly
auspicious
sign
,
it
seemed
,
on
a
voyage
of
self
-
discovery
.
Imagine
now
,
if
you
will
,
all
the
opportunities
for
mockery
this
idea
unleashed
in
my
wise
-
ass
friends
.
I
wanted
to
go
to
the
Three
I
’
s
,
did
I
?
Then
why
not
spend
the
year
in
Iran
,
Ivory
Coast
and
Iceland
?
Or
even
better
-
why
not
go
on
pilgrimage
to
the
Great
Tri
-
State
"
I
"
Triumvirate
of
Islip
,
I
-
95
and
Ikea
?
My
friend
Susan
suggested
that
perhaps
I
should
establish
a
not
-
for
-
profit
relief
organization
called
"
Divorcees
Without
Borders
.
"
But
all
this
joking
was
moot
because
"
I
"
wasn
’
t
free
to
go
anywhere
yet
.
That
divorce
-
long
after
I
’
d
walked
out
of
my
marriage
-
was
still
not
happening
.
I
’
d
started
having
to
put
legal
pressure
on
my
husband
,
doing
dreadful
things
out
of
my
worst
divorce
nightmares
,
like
serving
papers
and
writing
damning
legal
accusations
(
required
by
New
York
State
law
)
of
his
alleged
mental
cruelty
-
documents
that
left
no
room
for
subtlety
,
no
way
in
which
to
say
to
the
judge
:
"
Hey
,
listen
,
it
was
a
really
complicated
relationship
,
and
I
made
huge
mistakes
,
too
,
and
I
’
m
very
sorry
about
that
,
but
all
I
want
is
to
be
allowed
to
leave
.
"
(
Here
,
I
pause
to
offer
a
prayer
for
my
gentle
reader
:
May
you
never
,
ever
,
have
to
get
a
divorce
in
New
York
.
)
The
spring
of
2003
brought
things
to
a
boiling
point
.
A
year
and
a
half
after
I
’
d
left
,
my
husband
was
finally
ready
to
discuss
terms
of
a
settlement
.
Yes
,
he
wanted
cash
and
the
house
and
the
lease
on
the
Manhattan
apartment
-
everything
I
’
d
been
offering
the
whole
while
.
But
he
was
also
asking
for
things
I
’
d
never
even
considered
(
a
stake
in
the
royalties
of
books
I
’
d
written
during
the
marriage
,
a
cut
of
possible
future
movie
rights
to
my
work
,
a
share
of
my
retirement
accounts
,
etc
.
)
and
here
I
had
to
voice
my
protest
at
last
.
Months
of
negotiations
ensued
between
our
lawyers
,
a
compromise
of
sorts
inched
its
way
toward
the
table
and
it
was
starting
to
look
like
my
husband
might
actually
accept
a
modified
deal
.
It
would
cost
me
dearly
,
but
a
fight
in
the
courts
would
be
infinitely
more
expensive
and
time
-
consuming
,
not
to
mention
soul
-
corroding
.
If
he
signed
the
agreement
,
all
I
had
to
do
was
pay
and
walk
away
.
Which
would
be
fine
with
me
at
this
point
.
Our
relationship
now
thoroughly
ruined
,
with
even
civility
destroyed
between
us
,
all
I
wanted
anymore
was
the
door
.
The
question
was
-
would
he
sign
?
More
weeks
passed
as
he
contested
more
details
.
If
he
didn
’
t
agree
to
this
settlement
,
we
’
d
have
to
go
to
trial
.
A
trial
would
almost
certainly
mean
that
every
remaining
dime
would
be
lost
in
legal
fees
.
Worst
of
all
,
a
trial
would
mean
another
year
-
at
least
-
of
all
this
mess
.
So
whatever
my
husband
decided
(
and
he
still
was
my
husband
,
after
all
)
,
it
was
going
to
determine
yet
another
year
of
my
life
.
Would
I
be
traveling
all
alone
through
Italy
,
India
and
Indonesia
?
Or
would
I
be
getting
cross
-
examined
somewhere
in
a
courtroom
basement
during
a
deposition
hearing
?
Every
day
I
called
my
lawyer
fourteen
times
-
any
news
?
-
and
every
day
she
assured
me
that
she
was
doing
her
best
,
that
she
would
telephone
immediately
if
the
deal
was
signed
.
The
nervousness
I
felt
during
this
time
was
something
between
waiting
to
be
called
into
the
principal
’
s
office
and
anticipating
the
results
of
a
biopsy
.
I
’
d
love
to
report
that
I
stayed
calm
and
Zen
,
but
I
didn
’
t
.
Several
nights
,
in
waves
of
anger
,
I
beat
the
life
out
of
my
couch
with
a
softball
bat
.
Most
of
the
time
I
was
just
achingly
depressed
.
Meanwhile
,
David
and
I
had
broken
up
again
.
This
time
,
it
seemed
,
for
good
.
Or
maybe
not
-
we
couldn
’
t
totally
let
go
of
it
.
Often
I
was
still
overcome
with
a
desire
to
sacrifice
everything
for
the
love
of
him
.
Other
times
,
I
had
the
quite
opposite
instinct
-
to
put
as
many
continents
and
oceans
as
possible
between
me
and
this
guy
,
in
the
hope
of
finding
peace
and
happiness
.
I
had
lines
in
my
face
now
,
permanent
incisions
dug
between
my
eyebrows
,
from
crying
and
from
worry
.
