Gerald was the first to break the silence.
He pushed his plate away and looked at me.
"All right. I remember the meeting."
I nodded.
"I thought you did."
He rubbed his forehead.
"But I don't understand why you're bringing it up now."
I looked at the brown envelope beside my chair.
"Because you seem to believe tonight is the first time we've ever made an agreement that matters."
Walter shifted in his seat.
"Nobody is questioning what happened three years ago."
I turned toward him.
"Then why are you both avoiding it?"
He didn't answer.
Gerald sighed.
"Terry, we have enough problems without going back over everything."
I almost smiled.
Everything.
That was how he described forty years of marriage, a company we had built together, and the responsibilities I had carried for his family.
Everything.
Something inconvenient that needed to be put aside.
I folded my hands.
"I'm not asking you to go over everything."
"Then what are you asking?"
I looked directly at him.
"Do you remember why you asked me to come to that office?"
He looked down at the table.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he nodded.
"Yes."
I waited.
He didn't continue.
I could see Walter becoming impatient.
He had never liked conversations that didn't move toward a conclusion.
He preferred decisions.
He preferred instructions.
He preferred people accepting what he said without asking him to explain.
That was why he had always been comfortable speaking for the family.
But I wasn't interested in making him comfortable anymore.
I looked at Gerald.
"You held my hands that afternoon."
He glanced up.
"You were worried."
He said nothing.
"You told me you needed my help."
"Terry, I know."
"Do you?"
His mouth tightened.
I wasn't trying to embarrass him.
I wanted him to understand that I hadn't forgotten the circumstances under which we had sat in that lawyer's office.
I remembered the blue binder.
I remembered the seriousness of the meeting.
I remembered the documents.
And I remembered the signatures.
Walter finally spoke.
"Whatever was signed then was signed for a reason."
I turned toward him.
"Exactly."
He seemed unhappy with my answer.
Gerald reached for his water.
He drank, then put the glass down.
"We handled that situation together."
I nodded.
"We did."
"Then why are you acting like I did something wrong?"
I looked at him for a long moment.
"Because tonight you told me to leave this house as though none of that had ever happened."
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
I looked at the company pen.
It was still lying near the envelope.
I remembered ordering those pens in bulk.
I remembered the boxes arriving at the office.
I remembered Gerald complaining that the old ones kept disappearing.
I had laughed.
It seemed like a harmless problem then.
Now that little pen was sitting beside the papers ending my marriage.
I wondered whether Gerald saw the irony.
Probably not.
Walter stood up.
"I'm going to make some coffee."
He pushed his chair back.
I watched him walk toward the kitchen.
He moved slowly, as he always did.
At ninety-one, ordinary movements took more effort.
I had spent years helping him with those ordinary movements.
I had never resented him for needing assistance.
But I had begun to resent the assumption that I would always provide it, regardless of how he treated me.
Gerald remained seated.
He looked at me.
"Can we talk privately?"
I nodded.
Walter was in the kitchen.
The dining room was quiet.
Gerald leaned forward.
"I didn't want tonight to become this."
I looked at him.
"Then you shouldn't have arranged it this way."
He looked away.
For a moment, I saw the man I had married.
Not the man who had pushed the envelope toward me.
The younger man who had once brought coffee to my desk.
The man who had been proud of the little office above the hardware store.
That memory hurt.
Because I knew I couldn't return to it.
I had loved that man.
But I couldn't keep living with the man sitting across from me now.
Gerald lowered his voice.
"Things have changed."
I nodded.
"Yes. They have."
And for the first time, he didn't have an immediate answer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Company Pen Beside the Divorce Papers Reminded Me How Many Things I Had Signed Without Ever Asking for Credit
The Dinner I Thought Was Ordinary Until My Husband Put an Envelope Beside My Plate
Part 9 of 20
