American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld

Author:Curtis Sittenfeld [Sittenfeld, Curtis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-07-31T18:06:32+00:00

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a m e r i c a n w i f e

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“Jadey, maybe you should give him a break.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Both of yours,” I said, but I wondered if I had it in me to have the

conversation; I wondered if I should have canceled the walk. Since the

Suttons had left our house a few hours earlier, I had been hovering be-

tween two possibilities: a torrent of tears or else—and I recognized this

possibility as worse—a shutdown of all systems. It was the first time in

over twenty years, the only time apart from Andrew Imhof’s death, that

I had felt the pull toward nothingness, and I knew the impulse was far

more dangerous now; I had the responsibilities of an adult and above all

was in charge of Ella’s well-being. But how soothing it would be to

give up, to sleepwalk—to quit trying with Charlie, or expecting him

to try with me.

Jadey said, “You might disagree, but I think my husband needs to

work a little harder to win back my affection.”

We both were quiet—the storm clouds were long gone, sun shone

through the leaves of the trees, the blades of grass glistened, and the lo-

custs buzzed extravagantly—and I said, “Do you really enjoy playing

these games with him?”

“Listen, not all of us have your perfect marriage.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” This was a far sharper exchange than the

ones Jadey and I usually had, and I think both of us were surprised that

it was still gaining momentum.

Carefully—it was to Jadey’s credit that the exchange did then begin

to lose force—she said, “I didn’t mean to step in a prickly patch. I just

meant that you have it easier than some of us.”

And then I did it, I burst into tears, and Jadey said, “God almighty,

what did I say? Oh, sweet Jesus.” I had stopped walking and brought

my hands up to my face, and she patted my back. “Alice, you know I

love you to pieces. Is this about your poor granny or what?”

I wiped my eyes. “You think I have it easy?”

“Your husband worships the ground you walk on. Yeah, so Chas

probably does drink too much, but you’ve got to pick your poison. At

least you’re still hopelessly in love.”

“Jadey, I’m— I’m thinking of leaving him. Our marriage is far from

perfect.”

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c u r t i s s i t t e n f e l d

“Leaving him like divorce?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how it works. Would I move out

of the house or would he?” Speaking these words aloud to Jadey marked

the first moment I had truly, realistically considered ending my mar-

riage. For months, I had heard whispers —separation, divorce— and

though it had seemed that they were carried to me on the wind, they

were really coming from inside my own head. Even so: They’d been ab-

stract ideas, escapes of last resort. “Or facing Maj, think about that,” I

added. (Though I did not, could not, call her Maj to her face, I was per-

fectly capable of using the nickname when discussing her with others.

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