Page 4 of Trade
I can’t lose him. It’s always been us. Bennett and Gloria. Jab and Cross. The Smiths from AP.
“Bennett,” I plead, my voice cracking. As my panic rises, everything in the room becomes a menace. The yellowed ceiling tiles sag under the weight of the floors above us. The rust on the edges of the file cabinets eats the metal, slowly, inexorably advancing. My husband glances up at me, and his eyes arewrong. It’s like he’s not in there. Like I’m a stranger.
Neil clears his throat. “Won’t you sit, Gloria?”
Shoot. I’m still standing. I lower myself into the chair Susan pulled out for me, my body stiff, bracing for the unknown. Susan smiles at me in that expectant, pointed way she has, like I haven’t done what she thinks I ought to do.
“How are you, Gloria?” she says once I’m settled across from Neil, smiling with her thin eyebrows arched.
“I’m well. How are you?” I ask on autopilot, and her smile broadens. That’s what she wanted from me—the niceties. Susan is the type who asserts her dominance by insisting on manners when passions are high or a situation is urgent.
What is so urgent?
“Good, good, I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.” She swivels to face Neil, nodding at him to begin.
Begin what?
Bennett is back to staring at his legal pad. Why won’t he look at me? We made our bed together this morning, him on the right, me on the left, like always. I made his coffee. He scratched an itch on my back I couldn’t reach. Why is he acting like this?
How does he even know about the envelope of mimosa leaves?
“I’m afraid we have some rather delicate”—Neil pauses, making a show of choosing his words—“newsto share that you might find distressing.” His expression is as easy and open as usual, and he’s the picture of a Head Administrator—combover neatly combed over, salt-and-pepper mustache neatly trimmed, uniform pressed, and enamel pins and gold buttons polished to a shine.
He wouldn’t be this calm if I were in trouble, right?
I reach under the table to touch Bennett’s leg for reassurance. He shifts away.
My face catches fire. What is happening? We fight, but we keep it in the quarters. We’re always a unit in public. What have I done that he’d act like this?
I curl my hands into fists in my lap, and ice runs through my veins.
“Bennett, you want to take it from here?” Neil asks and leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers, considering us all like we’re about to perform for him.
Bennett’s jaw flexes. He clearly does not want to take it from here, but after several long seconds pass in silence, he finally looks at me. The pulse in his temple is throbbing. He’s pissed. Oh God. He knows I was planning on going over his head. How could he know? I only just decided to do it myself when the skip-level meeting got pushed up.
Is he going to dress me down in front of Neil? Have things gotten that bad between us?
“Bennett,” I say, reaching for him again, this time over the table.
He jerks his hands away. “Listen, Gloria, there’s no easy way to say this. I’m leaving you.”
“Where are you going?” The words come out of my mouth at the same exact moment that I realize what he means. He’s breaking up with me.
In the Head Administrator’s office?
After twenty years of marriage?
Not possible. We made love three nights ago. He went down on me. Afterward, we listened to old radio shows from the Before and cracked each other up, guessing what words likegoober peas, girdle,andjalopymeant.
Things have been off, but they haven’t beenbad. We don’t fight. Except for the water thing, and that’s work. That’s notus.
I have to be misunderstanding, but he’s not explaining. He’s staring at me like he’s daring me to argue, like he’s steeled to defend himself.
“Bennett?” My voice isn’t mine. It’s small and wavery.
He coughs, clearing his throat. “Listen, Gloria. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. I know it’s hard. It’s not what I wanted, but now I have to do the right thing. We all have to do the right thing. Even if it’s hard.”
He falls silent like I know whatitis, but I have no idea. Did he fall out of love with me? That doesn’t mean divorce. We talked about this before we got married. We agreed if things didn’t work out, we’d open the marriage. He swore no matter what happened, he’d never let me go into the lottery.
