the end of us.”
“There’ll never be an end. Not for us. Wherever I am, I’ll always be there for you. But you have Jack now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“I’ll always need you.”
“But he’s the one you said you wanted. He’s the one you said you’ve been looking for. He’s also the absolute worst basketball player in the world, but if you can live with that, so can I.”
Jennifer had stayed with me until I had fallen asleep. She’d returned the next morning to nurse me through the ensuing hangover—and to see me through the biggest day of my life. The next week, she had caught a plane to Darfur and I’d thought I’d lost her forever.
On the video, Natalie won the catfight for my wedding bouquet, coming out of the pile with the battered and bruised flowers. “So,” she said, turning to Jennifer, “are we moving to Canada or Massachusetts?”
The answer had been neither. They’d broken up a few months later, when Jennifer had decided she could make better use of her medical skills in drought-stricken Africa than the Windy City. For Jennifer, it had been the start of a new kind of love affair—the one between her and the Dark Continent. Her stays there had grown longer and longer, her visits to the U.S. shorter and shorter until Natalie had decided she was over it.
“I want a girlfriend who’s going to fuck me in person, not over the phone,” she had said. “When you’re here, your mind’s there. And when you’re there, I never hear from you. I’m tired of watching the news praying I won’t see your name appear in the scroll at the bottom of the screen. ‘Crusading American doctor Jennifer Rekowski murdered in East Africa.’”
I ejected the tape and returned it to its place on the shelf.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked.
I turned to face him. “Remembering.”
Chapter Fourteen
“We have to talk,” I said.
“I agree, but can we talk over lunch? I’m starving.”
“What I have to say isn’t for public consumption. It shouldn’t be unexpected, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come as a bit of a shock.”
“That sounds ominous. What is it?”
I could see him steeling himself as if he were one of his patients preparing himself to receive bad news.
“There’s no easy way to say it so I’ll just say it.” I took a deep breath and spoke the words no wife ever expects to say. “I want a divorce.”
Jack sat down hard. He took a moment to gather himself. When he was able to speak, he was a great deal more composed than I would have been if the shoe were on the other foot. “Three questions immediately come to mind: why, how long have you felt this way, and is there someone else?”
I wanted to break it to him gently, if such a thing existed.
“You are everything I’m supposed to want.” I needed to explain the situation to him as well as myself. “I feel more comfortable with you than any man I’ve ever met. Even when I realized that my heart was somewhere else, I thought I could make it work, but I can’t. Jack, I’m—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I love you, Syd,” he said, trying to reassure me—and himself. “We can work it out.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“What about this afternoon? That didn’t feel like good-bye. Not to me.”
“It did to me.” To me, it had felt like the final nail in the coffin.
“There is someone else, isn’t there?” He was trying to cast the blame elsewhere instead of placing it where it belonged: on me.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he said sharply. “It would help me understand why you keep pushing me away when all I want to do is help you. Were you— Are you having an affair?” His voice was tiny. Choked. As if the emotions he was fighting back were too much for him.
“No,” I replied. “One night is not an affair.”
It took him a moment to fully grasp what I’d just said.
“One—So you have—With who?” he sputtered. “And don’t try to
“There’ll never be an end. Not for us. Wherever I am, I’ll always be there for you. But you have Jack now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“I’ll always need you.”
“But he’s the one you said you wanted. He’s the one you said you’ve been looking for. He’s also the absolute worst basketball player in the world, but if you can live with that, so can I.”
Jennifer had stayed with me until I had fallen asleep. She’d returned the next morning to nurse me through the ensuing hangover—and to see me through the biggest day of my life. The next week, she had caught a plane to Darfur and I’d thought I’d lost her forever.
On the video, Natalie won the catfight for my wedding bouquet, coming out of the pile with the battered and bruised flowers. “So,” she said, turning to Jennifer, “are we moving to Canada or Massachusetts?”
The answer had been neither. They’d broken up a few months later, when Jennifer had decided she could make better use of her medical skills in drought-stricken Africa than the Windy City. For Jennifer, it had been the start of a new kind of love affair—the one between her and the Dark Continent. Her stays there had grown longer and longer, her visits to the U.S. shorter and shorter until Natalie had decided she was over it.
“I want a girlfriend who’s going to fuck me in person, not over the phone,” she had said. “When you’re here, your mind’s there. And when you’re there, I never hear from you. I’m tired of watching the news praying I won’t see your name appear in the scroll at the bottom of the screen. ‘Crusading American doctor Jennifer Rekowski murdered in East Africa.’”
I ejected the tape and returned it to its place on the shelf.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked.
I turned to face him. “Remembering.”
Chapter Fourteen
“We have to talk,” I said.
“I agree, but can we talk over lunch? I’m starving.”
“What I have to say isn’t for public consumption. It shouldn’t be unexpected, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come as a bit of a shock.”
“That sounds ominous. What is it?”
I could see him steeling himself as if he were one of his patients preparing himself to receive bad news.
“There’s no easy way to say it so I’ll just say it.” I took a deep breath and spoke the words no wife ever expects to say. “I want a divorce.”
Jack sat down hard. He took a moment to gather himself. When he was able to speak, he was a great deal more composed than I would have been if the shoe were on the other foot. “Three questions immediately come to mind: why, how long have you felt this way, and is there someone else?”
I wanted to break it to him gently, if such a thing existed.
“You are everything I’m supposed to want.” I needed to explain the situation to him as well as myself. “I feel more comfortable with you than any man I’ve ever met. Even when I realized that my heart was somewhere else, I thought I could make it work, but I can’t. Jack, I’m—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I love you, Syd,” he said, trying to reassure me—and himself. “We can work it out.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“What about this afternoon? That didn’t feel like good-bye. Not to me.”
“It did to me.” To me, it had felt like the final nail in the coffin.
“There is someone else, isn’t there?” He was trying to cast the blame elsewhere instead of placing it where it belonged: on me.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he said sharply. “It would help me understand why you keep pushing me away when all I want to do is help you. Were you— Are you having an affair?” His voice was tiny. Choked. As if the emotions he was fighting back were too much for him.
“No,” I replied. “One night is not an affair.”
It took him a moment to fully grasp what I’d just said.
“One—So you have—With who?” he sputtered. “And don’t try to
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