Sullivans Island (Continued)
"Don't make it harder? What does that mean?"
"I just need some space, some time to think," he said. "It has to be this way."
"Why?" I began to cry. "What about Beth? What about our family, Tom? What about me?"
"Look, I just came back to get some things. You know I'll take care of you and Beth. I'll talk to her. I just have to have some time, Susan."
"Look at me, Tom. Look at me in the face and tell me why this is happening because I don't understand."
When he looked at me I knew all at once why it was happening. He didn't love me anymore. He didn't even look guilty. He looked relieved. He cleared his throat.
"Where is my black hanging bag?" he said.
"Find it yourself," I said. It began to sink in that he was really leaving. Nothing I could say or do would change that. "And, while you're finding your black hanging bag that I worked overtime to buy you for Father's Day last year . . . Oh, God. It's on the third floor in the hall closet." I was going to tell him to go to hell but I couldn't get the words out of my throat. What difference would it have made? Father's Day. I watched him leave the room and listened to his quiet footsteps on the stairs. I heard him walk overhead and up the steps again to the third floor. I couldn't move. I felt like someone had died and it was such a shock that I couldn't absorb it. Suddenly I started thinking about seeing him in bed with that woman again and then I started getting mad again.
I went upstairs and found him lifting stacks of shirts from his drawer and putting them on the bed. His hanging bag was spread open and held several suits. I sat on the other side of the bed and tucked my feet under me.
"What's her name, Tom?" No answer. "Come on, Tom, she must have a name."
He opened his sock drawer and stopped. "Karen," he said.
"How old is she? I mean, she's obviously younger than I am. Just out of curiosity . . ."
"I don't know," he said.
"Nineteen? Twenty?" I was being a bitch but, hey, I figured, why not? "So, do you think she loves you for yourself?"
"Susan, she's twenty-three and yes, she loves me for myself."
"And, you love her too. Is that right?"
"Yes, I think so," he said in a whisper.
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