The Ranch

“Actually,” he said, looking at her mournfully, and seeming very young to her. He looked vulnerable and kind of pathetic. “I've fucked my life up pretty badly and yours.” She was startled by the way he looked, and even more so by the way he said it. She wondered if he was going to make some terrible confession, like an affair since he'd been in London. But in some ways, that might make it easy. This was not as easy for her as she'd hoped, just telling him their marriage was over. Suddenly he was a real person, with wrinkles and flaws, and things she had once loved about him.

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking puzzled. What did he mean, he'd fucked his life up?

“I think you know exactly what I mean. That's why you're here, isn't it? I figured that much out, stupid as I am. And as men go, I've been pretty dumb. I've spent the last year with my head buried in my desk somewhere, thinking that if I ignored you long enough you'd go away, or my misery and my guilt would, or Todd would come back, or the stupid things I said to you would be forgotten. But none of that seemed to happen. It just kept getting worse. I felt more awful every day, and you've come to hate me. That was actually pretty predictable, given the way I behaved. The only one who didn't predict it though was me, which is pretty awkward.” He said it all looking like a kid, she had to smile at what he was saying. Sometimes he was very endearing. “Anyway, I don't suppose any of this surprises you. I think I'm the only one around here who's amazed not only by my stupidity, but my behavior. So now you've come to let me know very politely, and in person, which is very kind of you, my dear, that you're going to divorce me.” He was the criminal helping the executioner set up the guillotine, and agreeing all the while that he deserved it. It actually made it harder to kill him.

“Where have you been all year?” she asked. It was the one thing she had wanted to ask him. “How could you have completely hidden from me, frozen me out? You never even spoke to me, or answered questions.” It had been like living with a robot. Or a dead man, and he had been.

“I was unhappy,” he said. He was the master of understatement, and she kept silently reminding herself to think of Hartley. “So what do we do now? Did you bring the divorce papers with you?” He figured she had them ready when he talked to her in Wyoming. It had all suddenly become clear to him, and he knew exactly why she was coming.

“Was I supposed to? Do you want them?”

“Do you have them with you?” He looked ready to sign them, and it annoyed her even more to see how willing he was to give up on what they'd had for twenty-two years. He really didn't care at all, from what she could see. And it infuriated her even further.

“No, I do not have our divorce papers with me,” she said angrily. “Hire yourself a lawyer or draw them up yourself. I can't do everything, for God's sake. I came over to talk to you, not have you sign papers.”

“Oh.” He looked startled. He had also gotten the message when the concierge told him she had her own room. He had been about to tell the housekeeper to prepare for another guest in his room, and it crushed him when he realized she wasn't going to stay with him. That certainly delivered the message. “You're very angry at me, Stu,” he said sadly, looking at her, wishing he could take it all back, or change it. “I don't blame you. I've been a complete bastard to you. I can't even give you an excuse, although you deserve one. All I can give you is an apology. I've been confused ever since Todd died. I felt so guilty, I didn't know who to blame. I blamed myself, but I couldn't stand it, so I pretended to blame you. But I never really did. I was always convinced it was my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?” She was stunned by what he was saying. “It wasn't anyone's fault. It was horrible for all of us, even Alyssa. None of us deserved it. I got really angry at him when I cleaned out his room, and the funny thing is I felt better after I did that.”

“You cleaned out his room? Why?” Once again, she had surprised him.

“Because it was time. I put everything away, and packed up his things. I gave away his clothes to people who could use them. I think I thought that if I left his room there long enough, he'd come back to it. I finally figured out that wasn't going to happen.”

“I think I figured that out here in London.”

Then she shocked him again. “I want to sell the apartment. Or you can do what you want,” she corrected herself, “but I don't want to live there. It's too depressing. None of us are ever going to recover as long as we live there.” Everyone had said not to make hasty decisions, and they hadn't. It had been a year now. “You can live there if you want, but I won't.” When she went back to New York, she was going to look for an apartment, unless she decided to live with Hartley. She still hadn't decided. And she knew he would do whatever she wanted.