Part 14 (1/2)

-I know.

-Jesus.

-I've never really thought of happiness as any kind of realistic goal.

-Really? Since when?

-Since forever. I don't remember the actual date and time of my epiphanies, dear. I'm not Joyce.

-Joyce who? Oh.

-So you want to leave? You think that will make things better?

-I don't know. I thought it was worth a shot.

-Have you ... is there someone ...

-What? Oh G.o.d, no. No. It has nothing to do with ...

-I didn't think so. It's just one of the questions you're supposed to ask.

-And you? True to your name?

-More or less. Okay, more.

-You never liked my family.

-What's that supposed to mean?

-I don't know.

Constance sighed deeply. -No, I never did. In fact I couldn't stand your family. Except for your mom. I feel sorry for your mom. I didn't know that was an issue for you.

-It wasn't. It's not. You probably liked them better than I did. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

-Maybe there isn't anything left to say.

-Maybe there isn't. Shouldn't that make me feel sad?

-If you want my opinion, which is why you asked, I'm a.s.suming, it's because you spend all your time feeling sad. You're so used to feeling sad that you don't know what it's like to feel anything else. Maybe you've even given up on the hope of ever feeling anything else.

-That sounds more like what you are feeling.

-Yes. Ironic.

-So what, then?

-What do you mean, what?

-I mean, what do we do now?

-I don't know. Until five minutes ago I didn't know that anything needed to be done.

-You mean you've been unhappy since I guess forever, and you were prepared just to keep on going, the way things are, indefinitely?

-Why not?

-Because ... this ... Marcus waved his hands around the room as a gesture to encompa.s.s his entire empty life.

-This?

-Isn't working. Isn't making you happy.

-It isn't making me unhappy. I can do that either with you or without you. I had the idea we were in this together. Why, what's your plan?

-I guess I don't have one.

-Remember way back before we got married, when we were both still dewy-eyed college kids, and you proposed to me, or however that went-you did propose, didn't you? We didn't just sit down and do a cost/benefit a.n.a.lysis of getting married ...?

-We might have. But that was after I proposed. And I was never dewy-eyed.

-Exactly my point. But one of the preconditions I insisted on imposing, I do remember this, specifically, was that if ever either of us wanted out, for any reason, he or she would be allowed to go. No muss, no fuss. I remember insisting because at the time I thought it would more likely be me who wanted out.

-You were right. At the time.

-If somewhere in the frozen tundra of your heart you believe that our marriage is the root cause of your ... let's call it dissatisfaction, then you need to leave.

-I don't know what I believe. Either in the tundra of my heart or the fallow field of my brain.

-I don't think people like you and me are made for happiness, Marcus. I don't think we're constructed properly. We get along. We do things the right way. In order to be happy you have to be like Guy.

-Who you hate.

-He never brushes his teeth!

-I know. It's gross. But maybe sometimes you have to look beyond dental hygiene.

-Maybe I just did.

-But how can he be happy when he's comatose?

-Before the coma. Or maybe even after the coma, who knows? But it's the risks, the carelessness, the more or less complete lack of self-consciousness that allowed Guy to experience, I suspect, at least a few brief moments of happiness in his life. Along with a great deal of fear, and misery, and self-loathing, possibly related to tooth decay. That's something we don't have to deal with as much.