5

“I love you,” I said to her.

“I don’t want to be unkind,” she replied, her voice measured, “but I have to ask you again what difference that makes?”

“How can love not make a difference?” I snapped.

“When it’s a disguise for something else.”

“I love you,” I repeated. “Your feelings may have changed, but mine haven’t. And you did love me.”

“That’s true.”

“Why don’t you love me now?”

“I’ve explained to you already.”

“I only know you loved me and now you say you don’t.”

“I said I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Why make this harder than it has to be?” she asked, waving to get the waiter’s attention.

I couldn’t dismiss my certainty that she was being unfair.

“Because it’s hard. At least I feel it.”

“I’m not going to let you make me feel guilty.”

“You’re responsible for this.”

“Oh, please.”

“You’re breaking up our marriage.”

“If our marriage is breaking up, we’re both responsible.”

“Like a pedestrian is responsible if he gets run over by a car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“Look,” she said, “I can’t accuse you the way you’re accusing me. You are who you are. I have nothing against you. Once I loved you. I wish I could love you still. But you don’t carry your share of the burden.”

“What burden?” I demanded. “Why is marriage like carrying a burden?”

“Listen to yourself,” she said with a superiority that I could sense even if she tried to conceal it.

“You could listen too,” I flung back at her.

“Oh.” She sighed with a look of disappointment.

“I love you,” I said.

“But how do you love me?” she asked. “Do you love me enough to look at who you are? Do you love me enough to take back everything you believe about me and examine it all again? Do you love me enough to see me as I am and not the way you want me to be?”

The waiter finally arrived.

“The check, please,” she said.

“I love you enough to know what we’re losing,” I answered, feeling the limit on my time with her. “It was so good for us. Why would you give that up?”

She put a credit card on the bill and waved away the card I’d pulled from my pocket.

“We’re not getting anywhere.”

She spoke the words sadly. I started to cry, the tears flowing from the corners of my eyes. I cried because I had disappointed her and I wanted her to come back to me. But I was beginning to understand what she meant, like something just visible at the periphery of my vision. Then she too started to cry. The waiter returned and looked discreetly away while she dabbed at her tears with a napkin.

“This is pointless,” she said. “It just upsets us.”

She signed the slip for the credit card. The waiter picked it up and glided swiftly away.

“We can give it time,” I said. “We don’t have to decide anything quickly. After all, we’re living in the same apartment.”

“Sure.” She tucked her wallet into her purse. “We can give it all the time in the world, but it won’t do any good. Let’s not meet like this again.”

“But … ”

“It’s too painful. We just don’t understand each other anymore. Let’s go.”

Pushing back her chair, she rose.

“Yes, let’s go.”