Oliver's Story

I fell thirty thousand feet and hit the ground. I was incredibly depressed.

'It's unbearable,' I told the doctor. 'Couldn't you have warned me?'

Earlier that afternoon, my wild euphoria had started to dissolve into a sadness beyond words.

'But nothing's wrong — ' I started. Then I realized how ridiculous it sounded. 'I mean things are going well with Marcie. It's just me. I've clutched. I can't go through with it.'

There was a pause. I hadn't specified what I could not go through with.

I knew. But it was difficult to say:

'Taking her to my place. Do you understand?'

Once again I'd acted rashly. Why the haste in making Marcie leave her house? Why do I precipitate these gestures of … commitment?

'Maybe I'm just using Marcie selfishly … to fill the void.' I thought about my own hypothesis.

'Or maybe it's still Jenny. I mean almost two years later I could maybe have a fling and justify it.

But my house! To have somebody in my house and in my bed. Sure, realistically the house is different and the bed is different. Logic says it shouldn't bother me. But damn, it does.'

'Home', you see, is still a place I live with Jenny.

Paradox: They say that husbands all have fantasies of being single. I'm a weirdo. I lapse into daydreams that I'm married.

And it helps to have a place that is inviolate. A pad that no one comes to. I mean nothing breaks the comforting illusion that I'm sharing all I have with someone.

Now and then a piece of mail is forwarded, addressed to both of us. And Radcliffe regularly sends her letters coaxing contributions. This is my dividend for not announcing Jenny's death except to friends.

The only other toothbrush in the bathroom has belonged to Philip Cavilleri.

So you see, it's either a dishonest act to one girl …

Or betrayal of another.

Dr London spoke.

'In either case, that puts you in the wrong.'

He understood. But unexpectedly his understanding made it even worse.

'Must it be only either/or?' he queried with a Kierkegaardian allusion. 'Could there be no other explanation for your conflict?'

'What?' I really didn't know.

A pause.

'You like her,' Dr London quietly suggested.

I considered it.

'Which one?' I asked. 'You didn't say a name.'