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Now
she
turned
restlessly
on
the
bed
,
already
dozing
.
Her
mind
,
freed
of
any
linear
order
by
encroaching
sleep
,
floated
past
the
first
year
at
Stovington
,
past
the
steadily
worsening
times
that
had
reached
low
ebb
when
her
husband
had
broken
Danny
’
s
arm
,
to
that
morning
in
the
breakfast
nook
.
Danny
outside
playing
trucks
in
the
sandpile
,
his
arm
still
in
the
cast
.
Jack
sitting
at
the
table
,
pallid
and
grizzled
,
a
cigarette
jittering
between
his
fingers
.
She
had
decided
to
ask
him
for
a
divorce
.
She
had
pondered
the
question
from
a
hundred
different
angles
,
had
been
pondering
it
in
fact
for
the
six
months
before
the
broken
arm
.
She
told
herself
she
would
have
made
the
decision
long
ago
if
it
hadn
’
t
been
for
Danny
,
but
not
even
that
was
necessarily
true
.
She
dreamed
on
the
long
nights
when
Jack
was
out
,
and
her
dreams
were
always
of
her
mother
’
s
face
and
of
her
own
wedding
.
(
Who
giveth
this
woman
?
Her
father
standing
in
his
best
suit
which
was
none
too
good
-
he
was
a
traveling
salesman
for
a
line
of
canned
goods
that
even
then
was
going
broke
-
and
his
tired
face
,
how
old
he
looked
,
how
pale
:
I
do
.
)
Even
after
the
accident
-
if
you
could
call
it
an
accident
-
she
had
not
been
able
to
bring
it
all
the
way
out
,
to
admit
that
her
marriage
was
a
lopsided
defeat
.
She
had
waited
,
dumbly
hoping
that
a
miracle
would
occur
and
Jack
would
see
what
was
happening
,
not
only
to
him
but
to
her
.
But
there
had
been
no
slowdown
.
A
drink
before
going
off
to
the
Academy
.
Two
or
three
beers
with
lunch
at
the
Stovington
House
.
Three
or
four
martinis
before
dinner
.
Five
or
six
more
while
grading
papers
.
The
weekends
were
worse
.
The
nights
out
with
Al
Shockley
were
worse
still
.
She
had
never
dreamed
there
could
be
so
much
pain
in
a
life
when
there
was
nothing
physically
wrong
.
She
hurt
all
the
time
.
How
much
of
it
was
her
fault
?
That
question
haunted
her
.
She
felt
like
her
mother
.
Like
her
father
.
Sometimes
,
when
she
felt
like
herself
she
wondered
what
it
would
be
like
for
Danny
,
and
she
dreaded
the
day
when
he
grew
old
enough
to
lay
blame
.
And
she
wondered
where
they
would
go
.
She
had
no
doubt
her
mother
would
take
her
in
,
and
no
doubt
that
after
a
year
of
watching
her
diapers
remade
,
Danny
’
s
meals
recooked
and
/
or
redistributed
,
of
coming
home
to
find
his
clothes
changed
or
his
hair
cut
or
the
books
her
mother
found
unsuitable
spirited
away
to
some
limbo
in
the
attic
…
after
half
a
year
of
that
,
she
would
have
a
complete
nervous
breakdown
.
And
her
mother
would
pat
her
hand
and
say
comfortingly
,
Although
it
’
s
not
your
fault
,
it
’
s
all
your
own
fault
.
You
were
never
ready
.
You
showed
your
true
colors
when
you
came
between
your
father
and
me
.
My
father
,
Danny
’
s
father
.
Mine
,
his
.
(
Who
giveth
this
woman
?
I
do
.
Dead
of
a
heart
attack
six
months
later
.
)
The
night
before
that
morning
she
had
lain
awake
almost
until
he
came
in
,
thinking
,
coming
to
her
decision
.
The
divorce
was
necessary
,
she
told
herself
.
Her
mother
and
father
didn
’
t
belong
in
the
decision
.
Neither
did
her
feelings
of
guilt
over
their
marriage
nor
her
feelings
of
inadequacy
over
her
own
.
It
was
necessary
for
her
son
’
s
sake
,
and
for
herself
,
if
she
was
to
salvage
anything
at
all
from
her
early
adulthood
.
The
handwriting
on
the
wall
was
brutal
but
clear
.
Her
husband
was
a
lush
.
He
had
a
bad
temper
,
one
he
could
no
longer
keep
wholly
under
control
now
that
he
was
drinking
so
heavily
and
his
writing
was
going
so
badly
.
Accidentally
or
not
accidentally
,
he
had
broken
Danny
’
s
arm
.
He
was
going
to
lose
his
job
,
if
not
this
year
then
the
year
after
.
Already
she
had
noticed
the
sympathetic
looks
from
the
other
faculty
wives
.
She
told
herself
that
she
had
stuck
with
the
messy
job
of
her
marriage
for
as
long
as
she
could
.
Now
she
would
have
to
leave
it
.
Jack
could
have
full
visitation
rights
,
and
she
would
want
support
from
him
only
until
she
could
find
something
and
get
on
her
feet
-
and
that
would
have
to
be
fairly
rapidly
because
she
didn
’
t
know
how
long
Jack
would
be
able
to
pay
support
money
.
She
would
do
it
with
as
little
bitterness
as
possible
.
But
it
had
to
end
.
So
thinking
,
she
had
fallen
off
into
her
own
thin
and
unrestful
sleep
,
haunted
by
the
faces
of
her
own
mother
and
father
.
You
’
re
nothing
but
a
home
-
wrecker
,
her
mother
said
.
Who
giveth
this
,
woman
?
the
minister
said
.
I
do
,
her
father
said
.
But
in
the
bright
and
sunny
morning
she
felt
the
same
.
Her
back
to
him
,
her
hands
plunged
in
warm
dishwater
up
to
the
wrists
,
she
had
commenced
with
the
unpleasantness
.
