The Ranch

“Never mind the apartment,” Bill finally said bluntly. “Do you want to live with me? I think that's the issue.” He almost fell out of his chair when she answered, although he had expected it, he still didn't want to hear it.

“No, I don't,” she said calmly. “Not the way it's been for the past year. I would, the way it used to be. But that's all over.”

“What if we could go back again? If it could be like that, the way it was before, then what?”

“That doesn't happen,” she said sadly, and when she looked up she saw tears in his eyes and she was sorry for him. She had cried so much for the past year, she couldn't cry anymore. For her, it was all over. “I'm really sorry.”

“So am I,” he said, looking vulnerable and human. It was sad, the body snatchers had brought him back too late, but it probably didn't matter anyway, it was only for a visit. If she had agreed to go back to him, he probably would have been rotten to her again, and stopped talking to her, she thought as she looked at him. She didn't want to chance it. “I'm sorry I was such a damn fool,” he said, his lip trembling, his eyes filled with tears. “I just didn't know how to handle what happened.”

“Neither did I,” she said, her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself, “but I needed you. I had no one.” She sobbed as she said it.

“Neither did I. I didn't even have me, that's what was so awful. It was like I died along with Todd, and I killed our marriage.”

“You did,” she accused him openly. This was why she had come to London. She at least wanted him to know why she was leaving. He had a right to know that. But he just sat there, crying. And he looked so miserable while he did, she just wanted to put her arms around him, but she forced herself not to do that.

“I wish I could take it all back and do it differently, Stu, but I can't. I can't do anything but tell you how sorry I am. You deserve a lot better than this. You always did. I was a total shit and a complete moron.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she said, pacing around the room suddenly. For the first time, she looked angry and flustered. “Why are you telling me now what a bastard you were? Why didn't you do something about it?”

“I didn't know how to stop. But I figured it out once I got here. I realized what a mistake this was as soon as I got to London. I was so lonely I couldn't think straight. I wanted you here. I wanted to ask you to come, but I was too embarrassed to do it, and you were having a good time at some goddamn dude ranch. You probably fell in love with a cowboy, for all I know,” he said, looking miserable, and she stared at him and wanted to shake him.

“You are a complete jerk,” she said, with total conviction. She should have said it months ago, and was sorry now that she hadn't.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to be insulting, I just meant I deserved it.”

“You deserve a good swift kick in the behind, and you have all year, William Walker. What do you mean you were lonely when you got here? How could you be stupid enough to set yourself up here for two or three months and just dump me in New York? Why should I even be married to you anymore?”

“You're right. You shouldn't,” he said humbly.

“Good. I'm glad we agree on that. Let's get divorced.” She had finally said it. It was over, but he was staring at her and shaking his head at her, which confused her further.

“I don't want to,” he said, looking like a kid refusing to go to the dentist. “I don't want to divorce you,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” She looked exasperated.

“I love you.” He looked straight into her eyes as he said it, and she looked away from him and out the window.

“It's a little late for that, I'm afraid,” she said sadly. She would never believe again that he loved her. He had proved otherwise for an entire year now. He had ignored her, abandoned her, shunned her, frozen her out, gone to London for two months, and he had never offered her a moment of comfort when their son died. He had cheated her of everything he owed her as a husband.

“It's never too late,” he said, still looking at her, but she shook her head. She knew different. “Are you saying you could never forgive me? That's not like you. You've always been so forgiving.”

“Probably too much so,” she said wisely. “I don't know why, but I do know it's too late for me. I'm really sorry,” she said, standing up, and turning her back to him, as she looked out at the rooftops of London. She wanted to end their discussion. She had told him she wanted a divorce. This was what she had come for. And she had a fax to send… “Bonjour, Arielle”… She wanted Hartley to find it the moment he walked into his apartment on Friday.

But she hadn't realized that Bill had come up behind her, and she jumped a foot when he put his arms around her. “Don't do that, please,” she said, without turning around to see him.

“I want to,” he said, sounding desperately unhappy, “just one last time, please… let me hold you…”