I Am Curious (Thirty)

March 28

Eric didn’t call. The phone rang promptly at three-thirty. Arnold, checking to see if the coast was clear. I told him the meeting with the lawyers had been indefinitely postponed. Did this mean I was running out of bread? I told him I was all right. Because if I needed any money he might be able to help. I told him thanks but not for the time being.

It’s all arranged, he said. He and David will come by for me at six-thirty.

What a strange feeling this is. A date with two men. Tonight I will meet them and we will presumably relax and talk together, all of us silently thinking ahead.

I just called Howard’s office. Just now, after writing that last paragraph. Why? I guess I had been thinking about him, after using him as a potential cop-out in case Eric had wanted me this evening.

Of course there is no separation agreement nor will there be one. I charged some clothing the other day. And a handbag on his Mastercharge card. I wonder if he will stop those charge accounts. It might not occur to him. Sometimes it takes months for a purchase to show up on a statement. Except that it would be typical for Howard to go to a lawyer the day I left him, just to touch all the bases as he would say it, and the lawyer would probably tell him to close the accounts.

Why should I worry? I haven’t had any trouble using the cards yet. And they’re never going to arrest me. The worst that could happen is that they tell me they can’t accept the cards or something along those lines.

I have plenty of money anyway.

I didn’t talk to him. I dialed the office and asked for his extension and his secretary answered. I wonder if he’s fucking her. She’s a real honey-voiced thing. I asked for Howard. She asked who was calling. I said Gloria Steinem. God knows why. It was the first name that came to mind. The stupid girl got it wrong anyway. “One moment, Miss Stein.” Dumb bitch.

When Howard came on I let him say hello a few times. I didn’t say anything. He said, “Nobody on the line,” and hung up.

Why did I want to hear his voice? A genuine puzzle. To convince myself that he still exists?

I did love him once. I know I did. And he me. I wish I knew what happened. Somewhere along the way we must have started being different people. I stopped being me and I became very boring, and so did Howard, and we were two boring people leading a boring life. That’s what happened to us.

Why?

I don’t know. Happens to everybody.

Any way for people to avoid it?

Probably not. Or maybe yes. Don’t get married, don’t get in ruts, fuck constantly. That might do it.

I feel wonderful. Really wonderful. Groovy and all that stuff. Happy and loose and free.