She thought at first Jack was just tired of her, that something had happened to their marriage that happened to all marriages, and that it would soon pass, change, like a car shifting into another gear. Then, fighting with herself, she tried to believe that he really had to work late many nights because of his new job. And after all, he had been a bachelor for so long, it was only natural he would want to see his old friends sometimes without her. But she couldn’t explain away the fact that he lied to her. He lied to her with words, with looks, with silence, and he lied to her the rare times he made love to her.
It was Marian Huber who caused her to make the decision to confront Jack. She could go on swallowing her hurt and waiting for Jack’s conscience to win out as long as it was only between the two of them. But her pride would not permit her to play the wronged, forgiving wife in the eyes of anyone else.
She spent the afternoon at her mother’s, ashamed that she would have to seek support there, and she left without asking her mother for advice, as she had meant to do. In the apartment again, she waited for Jack to come home from work, steeling herself with self-pity and righteousness, but dreading his arrival, dreading what she would have to say, and fighting the tears back. She was afraid their marriage was lost and she still loved Jack, and she was afraid that what was happening was somehow her fault.
He came home at six, unshaven and tired, and his eyes turned toward her dully as she faced him from the kitchen door. She did not speak, holding herself tightly and watching him as he dropped into the easy chair and put his feet up on the ottoman. Then she went to the refrigerator for ice cubes and mixed two highballs. She took one to Jack and sat down on the couch, and carefully placed the other on the end table.
“Thanks,” Jack said. He raised the glass and drank deeply. Then he looked around at her. “What’s the matter with you?”
Still she did not speak. She took a drink and then lit herself a cigarette. Her hand was trembling and she waved the match until it went out, and dropped it into the silver ashtray.
“Do you want a divorce?” she said casually.
Jack didn’t move. He didn’t seem to have heard. He sat motionless, turning slightly away from her, his head bowed between his shoulders, so the collar of his coat hunched up on his neck. Finally, he said, “No.”
Gene waited for him to go on. She could feel the tears aching in her eyes. Jack said, “We’re going away.” He leaned forward in the chair until she could not see his face.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going away. We’re getting the hell out of this town.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Jack.”
“I answered it. We’re getting away from here.”
“Where?”
“Pendleton, Oregon. I know where I can get a job up there.”
Ash from her cigarette spilled down her skirt and she brushed it away. She opened her mouth wide and rubbed her wrist over her eyes.
“We’ll leave this weekend,” Jack said.
“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” Gene cried. “Don’t you even care enough to tell me anything? If you’re in love with someone else, I want to know. I don’t want to go on like this.”
Jack finished his drink and shook the glass in his hand, still leaning awkwardly forward. The ice clinked. He didn’t speak, and Gene felt the tears slipping from her eyes.
“Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?” she said. “Even a lie. Even a lie would mean you cared enough to say something! You can’t just come in here and say we’re going away. I’m a person, Jack. I’m beginning to think you don’t know that I’ve got to have something to hang onto.”
“Why can’t you trust me?”
She sobbed aloud at that, angrily. “Have you given me any reason to trust you?”
“I guess I haven’t.”
“Jack, please, why won’t you say something? If you’d just tell me…If you’d just tell me, maybe I could trust you!”
Jack’s head turned slowly toward her. His face was white. His eyes met hers impersonally then moved away. “Don’t cry,” he said, and when he said it she sobbed aloud.
“I can’t help it,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “If you’d just say something.”
“All right,” he said huskily. “I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed as hell. Do you want me to crawl some more?”
She let her hands drop from her face. She said, “Do you love me, Jack?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to crawl. You don’t have to crawl at all. I just want to know about it. I have to know. Can’t you see that?”
“All right,” Jack said. “All right,” he repeated, half to himself. He took his feet from the ottoman and let them drop to the floor, leaning forward once more with his elbows on his knees and his head sunk between his hunched shoulders.
“Is it this Mrs. Denton?” Gene said.
His head jerked toward her and the cords in her throat stood out like taut wires. “How do you know about her?” he hissed. “Did V…?”
“Marian Huber saw you with her. She asked at the hotel.”
He stared at her and she saw his tight lips move before he turned his head again. He was cursing Marian silently; finally he said aloud, “It’s a girl I used to know. In Bakersfield. She’s married to some old guy from the valley now. I ran into her a while ago.”
He leaned back in the chair and put his hand to his cheek, running it slowly up and down. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he continued. “I don’t know how to explain it very well. See, it’s hard for me to stay away from her.… V. Her name’s V.” He turned toward Gene when he said it, as though this were important. “See, it’s all right if I can stay away from her. That’s why we have to leave San Diego.”
“Do you love her?” Gene whispered.
“No,” Jack said. “No, I guess I hate her.”
“Were—were you in love with her before?”
“Goddamn it, I don’t know!” His hand dropped from his cheek to the arm of the chair. The tendons stood out on it. “Listen,” he said softly. “I told you it was hard to explain. But, see, it was a bad kind of thing. It got started wrong. We hurt each other. I guess it got to be a kind of game. Whoever hurt the other one worst won. Just like a game. I’d hurt her and she’d hurt me and whoever hurt the other worst won. You see?”
Gene’s lips felt dry and cracked. “Jack,” she said. “Was I part of that?”
Again his head jerked around and his eyes blazed into hers. “No!” he shouted. “No, Goddamn it! Don’t you ever think that, Gene!”
Gene shut her eyes and pressed her elbows in tight against her sides. “You don’t still want her?” she said.
“No.”
“Does she still want you?”
“She doesn’t know what she wants. She just wants me because you’ve got me.”
“Have I got you, Jack?” she whispered.
“If you want me.”
But she shook her head and went on, “If it’s no good, say so, Jack. If you want this other girl, just say so and I’ll go away. I don’t want to go on like this if you…”
“Stop that!” he interrupted. “That’s no good. Listen, I want you. I want you for my wife and I don’t want anybody else and we’re getting to hell out of this lousy town.” He started to get up but she pushed herself forward and knelt beside his chair and threw her arms around his neck.
He pressed his face against hers, his beard scraped her cheek and his arms were hard and tight. When she started to speak he kissed her so that she could not speak, and she clung to him, the arm of the chair hurting her breast. She strained against him but the chair was between them. Her heart beat wildly against the arm of the chair.