you come back and sit on the edge of the bed while your mind just spins like a top."
"He woke up. I still sat there, looking out the window, in the other room. He got out of bed and went into the bathroom and ran the water for his shower. I thought, This is probably the last time I'll ever hear him take a shower. And hit his chest, like he does. And snort, like he does, to clear the water out of his nostrils.
"I thought, What a funny thing to think, at a time like this. Or is it? Maybe it's the right thing to think at a time like this.
"He got dressed, and he came to the bedroom door a minute and looked in at me, before he was quite through, while he was measuring off the two sides of his necktie.
"I won't come back tonight,' he said. 'I won't come back anymore. I'll send for my things instead, some time during the day.' And then he added, as though he were asking my permission, 'Okay?'
"'Okay,' I said. I still sat there.
"He said, 'You act more dead than alive.'
"I said dully, 'You would too.'
"He finished finally, and came out, set to go.
"I said, 'Are you sure you want to go through with this, Vick?'
"'Come on now,' he said reproachfully.
"It was the funniest parting I ever heard of.
"He said, 'What about money? You better tell me now.'
"'That isn't what I want,' I said. 'I can always get that. That's the easiest thing to get there is.'
"He went out and closed the door after him.
"I still sat there.
"He came out of the building doorway down below on the street, and turned around and looked up at the window. He saw me looking down at him.
"He lifted his hat, tipped it way up high in parting salute to me. Then he stepped into a taxi the doorman had whistled up for him. The taxi drove off and my marriage was over.
"I never knew before what an insult it could be, how much it could hurt, how needling it could feel, to have your own husband exaggeratedly tip his hat to you like that.
"There was a bottle of goof pills in the medicine cabinet. I took them down. Then I brought a glass of water over. I sat down and kept switching from one to the other, until both were gone. The water tasted strange, but that was because I wasn't used to drinking water straight.
"I no sooner did it than I came to my senses with a bang. I yelled at myself, What am I doing -this- for? Why should I make it even easier on him than it is already? I'm gonna live! I'm gonna live so that I can get hunk with him, get square with him, screw him up but good! And I grabbed up the phone and hollered into it, 'Judas, Joseph, and Mary! Somebody send me a stomach pump up here quick, for the love of Pete!"
"I met him on the street one day. It wasn't planned, it was quite by accident. It was the sort of thing happens to two people maybe once in ten years in a town the size of New York.
"He looked at me and recognized me. Of course he recognized me, why shouldn't he? I saw that he wasn't going to stop, so I did instead, and that more or less forced him to stop against his will.
"He looked good and happy, and that didn't make me feel good and happy.
"He said Well?
"I said Well?
"Then he said So?
"I said So?
"No great sound track of a conversation up to that point. But there were a thousand unspoken words in it. Hope and indifference and mockery and entreaty.
"Finally he said, 'There's no use standing here like this. We haven't anything to say to each other.'
"I said, 'If you think I'm going to give you up without a fight, you better think twice.'
"'You already have,' he said. 'It's over and done with. There's nothing you can do about it.' And he started to walk away.
"'Isn't there?' I called after him. 'Isn't there? Watch. Watch and see.' But he never even turned around again.
"That brought the thing to a head. That got it going, that brush-off on the street. Love ended there. There wasn't any more love, only hate from then on. Hate, and figuring out how to hurt him.
"I worked on it, steady. While I earned my feed singing, I worked on
"He woke up. I still sat there, looking out the window, in the other room. He got out of bed and went into the bathroom and ran the water for his shower. I thought, This is probably the last time I'll ever hear him take a shower. And hit his chest, like he does. And snort, like he does, to clear the water out of his nostrils.
"I thought, What a funny thing to think, at a time like this. Or is it? Maybe it's the right thing to think at a time like this.
"He got dressed, and he came to the bedroom door a minute and looked in at me, before he was quite through, while he was measuring off the two sides of his necktie.
"I won't come back tonight,' he said. 'I won't come back anymore. I'll send for my things instead, some time during the day.' And then he added, as though he were asking my permission, 'Okay?'
"'Okay,' I said. I still sat there.
"He said, 'You act more dead than alive.'
"I said dully, 'You would too.'
"He finished finally, and came out, set to go.
"I said, 'Are you sure you want to go through with this, Vick?'
"'Come on now,' he said reproachfully.
"It was the funniest parting I ever heard of.
"He said, 'What about money? You better tell me now.'
"'That isn't what I want,' I said. 'I can always get that. That's the easiest thing to get there is.'
"He went out and closed the door after him.
"I still sat there.
"He came out of the building doorway down below on the street, and turned around and looked up at the window. He saw me looking down at him.
"He lifted his hat, tipped it way up high in parting salute to me. Then he stepped into a taxi the doorman had whistled up for him. The taxi drove off and my marriage was over.
"I never knew before what an insult it could be, how much it could hurt, how needling it could feel, to have your own husband exaggeratedly tip his hat to you like that.
"There was a bottle of goof pills in the medicine cabinet. I took them down. Then I brought a glass of water over. I sat down and kept switching from one to the other, until both were gone. The water tasted strange, but that was because I wasn't used to drinking water straight.
"I no sooner did it than I came to my senses with a bang. I yelled at myself, What am I doing -this- for? Why should I make it even easier on him than it is already? I'm gonna live! I'm gonna live so that I can get hunk with him, get square with him, screw him up but good! And I grabbed up the phone and hollered into it, 'Judas, Joseph, and Mary! Somebody send me a stomach pump up here quick, for the love of Pete!"
"I met him on the street one day. It wasn't planned, it was quite by accident. It was the sort of thing happens to two people maybe once in ten years in a town the size of New York.
"He looked at me and recognized me. Of course he recognized me, why shouldn't he? I saw that he wasn't going to stop, so I did instead, and that more or less forced him to stop against his will.
"He looked good and happy, and that didn't make me feel good and happy.
"He said Well?
"I said Well?
"Then he said So?
"I said So?
"No great sound track of a conversation up to that point. But there were a thousand unspoken words in it. Hope and indifference and mockery and entreaty.
"Finally he said, 'There's no use standing here like this. We haven't anything to say to each other.'
"I said, 'If you think I'm going to give you up without a fight, you better think twice.'
"'You already have,' he said. 'It's over and done with. There's nothing you can do about it.' And he started to walk away.
"'Isn't there?' I called after him. 'Isn't there? Watch. Watch and see.' But he never even turned around again.
"That brought the thing to a head. That got it going, that brush-off on the street. Love ended there. There wasn't any more love, only hate from then on. Hate, and figuring out how to hurt him.
"I worked on it, steady. While I earned my feed singing, I worked on
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