prevalent in wartime, as statistical analysis demonstrates.
(I hear that there are men who watch the newspapers for funerals, then attend those
of married men in order to meet new widows. This is shooting fish down a well and
probably, merits castration. On the other hand, those widows might not thank us.)
So we moved to Dallas and everything was satisfactory for a while. Brian was simply
a man with two wives, a situation not unknown among Howards – just pull the shades
against the neighbours, like some Mormons.
A short time after the birth of Marian’s new baby Brian came to me with something on
his mind, something he had trouble articulating.
I finally said, `Look, dearest, I am not a mind reader. Whatever it is, just spill
it.’
‘Marian wants a divorce.’
`Huh? Briney, I’m confused. If she’s not happy with us, all she needs to do is to
move out; it doesn’t take a divorce. In fact I don’t see how she could get one. But
I’m terribly sorry to hear it. I thought we had gone to considerable trouble to make
things happy for her. And for Richard Brian and her other children. Do you want me
to talk to her? Try to find out what the trouble is?’
‘Uh – Damn it, I didn’t make myself clear. She wants you to get a divorce so that
she can marry me.’
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My jaw dropped, then I laughed. ‘Goodness, Briney, what in the world makes her think
I would ever do that? I don’t want to divorce you; you’re the nicest husband a gal
ever had. I don’t mind sharing you – but, darling, I don’t want to get rid of you.
I’ll tell her so. Where is she? I’ll take her to bed and tell her so as sweetly as
possible.’ I reached up, took his shoulders and kissed him.
Then I continued to hold his shoulders and look up at him. ‘Hey, wait a minute. You
want a divorce. Don’t you?’
Briney didn’t say anything; he just looked embarrassed.
I sighed. ‘Poor Briney. Us frails do make your life complicated, don’t we? We follow
you around, climb into your lap, breathe in your ear. Even your daughters seduce
you, like – what was his name? Old Testament. And even your daughters-in-law. Stop
looking glum, dear man; I don’t have a ring in your nose, and never have had.’
‘You’ll do it?’ He looked relieved.
`Me? Do what?’
‘Divorce me.’
‘No. Of course not’
`But you said -‘
`I said that I didn’t have a ring in your nose. If you want to divorce me, I won’t
fight it. But I’m not the one who wants a divorce. If you like, you can simply do it
to me Muslim sty1e. Tell me “I divorce you” three times, and I’ll go pack my
clothes:
Perhaps I should not have been stubborn about it but I do not see that I owed it to
either of them to go through the fiddle-faddle – the trauma – of finding a lawyer
and digging up witnesses and appearing in court. I would co-operate… but let them
do the work.
Brian gave in once he saw that I meant it. Marian was vexed with me, stopped
smiling, and avoided talking with me. Finally I stopped her when she was about to
leave the living-room as I came in.
`Marian!’
She stopped. ‘Yes, Mother?’
‘I want you to stop pretending to be aggrieved. I want to see you smile and hear you
laugh, the way you used to. You have asked me to rum my husband over to you and I
have agreed to co-operate. But you must co-operate, too. You are acting like a
spoiled child. In fact, you are a spoiled child.’
‘Why, how utterly unfair!’
‘Girls, girls!’
I turned and looked at Brian. `I am not a girl. I am your wife of forty-seven years.
While I am here, I will be treated with respect and with warmth. I don’t expect
gratitude from Marian; my father taught me years ago never to expect gratitude
because there is no such thing. But Marian can simulate gratitude out of politeness.